“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”  (Dr. Seuss)

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us. And the world will live as one.”
(John Lennon)

I am walking along this gravel road heading to visit someone I know. I think earlier I got a call inviting me to come over for beers or something. I don’t recall who I was visiting, or who called me, or where I was when I got the call, but as I came up to the house, which is on my left, I see some man walking down the steps behind this slight, small-framed woman with long dark hair. She is wearing blue jeans and a white or light-blue shirt. As I come past the fence of the property next to the house where I am going to visit, suddenly the man pulls out a handgun and starts shooting the woman just as they both get to the bottom of the stairs and start walking across the front lawn. She is on the ground with her hands outstretch and this guy just keeps shooting. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang! I am sure he shot her 5 times and I think I saw blood starting to seep through her clothes. (I didn’t notice if she was carrying any Skittles or Iced Tea – Trayvon Martin reference).

I don’t recall where the shooter went, or who he was but the next thing I know I am in the house and I think there was another woman inside and she was panicking as I was trying to tell her to call the police and ambulance. I think this woman might have been mentally handicapped in some way, or developmentally challenged or something since I seem to recall thinking she may not be capable of calling the police so I start asking “where is the phone, where is the phone”. I notice the phone on this old, dilapidated couch in the middle of this messy living room with an old wooden floor where all the shine, the varnish, has worn off. I quickly pick up the phone and dial 911 and when I reach the operator/dispatcher she seems uncharacteristically calm, laid-back, even had a sort of disinterested laissez-faire attitude on the phone. I quickly tell her “please send the police and an ambulance” but I don’t know the address and I recall wondering this in the dream. How can I tell them where to go when I don’t know the address? The next thing I know this operator, with the almost cheerful and indifferent sounding tone in her voice, starts telling me this elaborate story trying to work out the details of why the guy shot the woman. She went on, and on and I finally said “do I really need to hear this story?”…”just send the police and an ambulance”. As I am talking to her, getting more and more impatient with her attempts to weave this strange story about what happened and why, I notice at least 3-4 police cars slowly driving up to the front of the house. No lights, no siren, just taking their time like it was a Sunday afternoon drive in the park.

The next thing I recall is that the woman who was shot is sitting up on this bench talking to one of the officers but she seems fine now, and the blood (I think) I saw earlier is gone. I start saying to the officer “what happened, I watched her being shot 4-5 times” and he said something like “she is still hurt, she was shot and ?????” (something else he said I don’t recall). I am then standing on this large wooden deck at the front of the house and this one officer tells me “step back a little” as he bends over and grabs one corner of a board that is sticking up on the porch. As he pulls on this board an entire sheet of the deck, about the size of a door, pulls up and there are all sorts of weapons stashed under the deck. He pulls out this short handled axe with a very wide curving blade. More like some sort of war/battle axe than something to chop wood with. He hands me the axe and I place it down on the deck. He then hands me a second axe. This one is more like a normal, long handled axe with duct tape all over the handle, but also with a normal sized blade, or maybe it was a double-bladed. As I am putting this axe down next to the first one on the deck, I notice another office coming up the stairs towards me and it’s Adam Beach, the actor. He says to me “hi Johnny, how are you doing”, just like we are old friends or something. In the dream, I do know that we know each other. He starts talking to the other office who is now pulling out some antique, shortened double barrelled blunderbuss. I even think I saw a typical flint powered trigger mechanism. So the two cops are chatting away (one of them Adam Beach), and the one just keeps pulling out these different weapons, including a hand gun, and handing them to me as I arrange them, in-line and evenly spaced, on the floor of this wooden deck/porch.

A couple other officers, along with an ambulance/first-aid attendant, are on the front lawn talking to the wounded woman. But she looks fine now, no blood and is sitting up so I don’t know what her condition was now in the dream. I also don’t know where the shooter was, or why I did not ask the officers why they weren’t looking for him. But at some point, one of them asks me what I was doing at the house and I said I was invited to come over for some beers. But I still don’t know who the owner of this house was, or even if I noticed anyone else in the dream besides the shooter, the victim and this mentally handicapped woman who was panicking inside when I was trying to find the phone. These two officers (one of them is still Adam Beach), are now chatting away about trivial things like family, what they did last weekend etc and I start thinking to myself in the dream, “I wonder if I am too old to become a cop”, or something to that effect. My cat Molson then jumped on my chest and woke me so although it is only 03:45am, I thought I would get up and write down this dream.