Dreams

Larry always dreams of black helicopters and explosions and death. His first apartment had railroad tracks in the front yard. Twice a day, three in the morning and three in the afternoon, a locomotive sped by. At first Larry would wake up in fright every time the train went by, later he dreamt straight through. It was here that the nightmares began.

As Larry watched from blocks away, a construction crane dropped a pallet of explosives on the roof of a high-rise apartment building. Larry sweats and pants and wonders why he is the only one that is panicked. People keep walking their dogs, riding their bikes, or moving to the beat of their headphones. A second explosion destroys the neighboring high-rise, still no one notices.

Black helicopters survey the scene circling the destruction like a swarm of flies. Suddenly there is silence the helicopters turn towards Larry just as a third explosion occurs beyond Larry’s view, behind the first two explosions. Finally, there is chaos. Priests dressed in robes of white are running with their crucifixes clutched in their fists. They are running from the explosion towards Larry. There is one priest emerging from the smoke and then Larry notices two, then Larry sees twenty or thirty of these cross-wielding padres running fervently in his direction. He notices the dark around their eyes, deep creviced wrinkles and frothy mouths.

Larry wakes subtly. He is used to the weirdness and destruction. He just stares at the ceiling and tries to think of nothing at all.