Dreaming

Just being in Utah has messed with my mind in ways that I never imagined. For one thing, I'm actually starting to have dreams now, so I'm guessing there's something in the Utah water. You might think it's odd that Black people don't dream but remember what happened the last time one of us had a dream. We got shot for it. It's just a natural evolutionary response mechanism.  When we do have dreams, they fall into one of two categories:

The first category are sexual dreams. I won't go into too much detail and you'll see why in a moment. Most of these involve me with women. Either she'll reject me right out and the dream ends there, or we get naked and she changes her mind. Sometimes she even makes us some bullshit excuse.

   "Oh, I just remembered. I have to move to another country."

and she'll disappear, literally. Just, poof, thin air. I even had a dream about my wedding. My fiancé went to go by a cake. She had been gone for four hours. Everyone was mad at me, accusing me of making everything up just to get free wedding presents (I could use a toaster, but I didn't get one). That's some cold shit right there. Even in my dreams, I can't get with anyone. Worse yet, I gave my fiancé 5k to spend on the wedding and I had nothing to show for it. For 5k I could've bought the best escort on the planet. Now I'm 5k more broke than I was and I don't have sex or anything to show for it (the guests took their gifts back).

The second category are violent dreams. Just last night I had a dream, infiltrating some bad dude's hideout. My partner (he's white, wearing a suit. I'm in shirt and pants) and I work our way in. We find our informant dead, he was hung. We busted out of that place, with gangsters on our tail. We duck into a warehouse, sat in the corner and hoped they didn't find us. Unfortunately, the first warehouse they checked was the one we were in. They'd see us for sure as soon as they made it to our corner. Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar pull into the warehouse in a car, shooting randomly. Brent Spiner (Data from Star Trek) pulls up in his own Oldsmobile as well. A few more people in suits follow them on foot. This has to be the weirdest crime organization I have ever seen.    

"Shit, this is the end. The black guy always dies!" I cried.            

  "Pull yourself together! Call in some backup." my partner ordered.            

   "Help!" I yelled into the walkie-talkie. "Help, motherfuckers! They're coming to kill us."            

  "Calm down, agent. Where are you?"            

   "In some warehouse. Oh, I just shit myself. I can't stop crying."            

   "Our show's over in 5. We'll be there to back you up after." they replied.            

   "Guess we'll just have to shoot our way out." My partner concluded pulling out a gun.            

"I don't have any firearms. They never gave me one."            

"Black guy with no guns? Wow. Well, just point and pretend to shoot. Maybe that'll scare them."

You know how ridiculous I looked, pointing at people going "pew pew pew"? But I was desperate and I figured it wasn't the weirdest thing I did. I was just hoping I didn't die because I know exactly how my funeral is gonna go.

        "Fel got shot." My friend would start the eulogy. "We all knew it was going to happen eventually, but at least he died in the line of duty. His last words were, and I quote, 'pew pew pew'. This nigga thought he could get away with pretending to shoot people.  He was the only Black person in America who wasn't packing heat. Unconfirmed but they say he was crying and he shat himself. So, don't get too close to the body."

It'll be the first funeral that will double as a stand-up comedy act. 

My partner poked out from the corner and started capping people's asses without the need to reload. After clearing a wave, he ran to the other corner to shoot people from there. I did the sensible thing and kept my ass hidden as fuck. But that didn't help me much because Brent Spiner managed to sneak up on me. I tried to pew pew pew him with my finger gun and he repaid the favor by shooting me in the shoulder with his real gun. Of course I get shot in my own dream. I had nowhere to run and death seemed inevitable but then his wrist watch started beeping.            

     "Smoke break." he said. Pulled out a packet and started smoking right there.My partner slid back into our corner and shot Brent's ass.             

     "Why did he stop shooting you to smoke?" My partner asked.            

    "Well nigga, sometimes you gotta smoke. I don't know." was my reply.

And that was the end of the dream. At least that one had a happy ending, right?