Drive By

2007-03-03 4:21 p.m.
I caught a bullet to the head in a dream this morning.

It was one of those moments in a dream when everything flashes from one situation to another. In one moment I was sitting on some steps on a familiar Chicago block with two women discussing some silliness, and in the blink of an eye I was idling down that same street in the driver's seat of a car.

The passenger door swung open and a bald Mexican man jumped in smiling. I don't know who he was, but in the dream I recognized him as a good friend. I slapped his hand and embraced him as he joked about winning an MC competition later that evening.

I idled to the front of his house a few doors down and slowed the car to let him out. I looked over and reached my hand out, then opened my mouth to wish him luck when I noticed a black Cadillac idling past us. He noticed my eyes following the caddy and looked over. The windows were tinted black and the rear driver's side window was rolled down. I saw the black metallic barrel of a semi automatic weapon and two pairs of dark eyes.

My entire being screamed "duck", but before my body reacted to the thought, I heard the dull crackle of pierced metal. Once. Twice. To my left and right. In my periphery, I saw my friend's shake and slump. One more dull piercing and everything shook in an instant followed by a slight pierce and crackle of the window beside me. My head slumped forward and turned a bit to the right and I saw blood in my slouched friend's ear.

I became sluggish and foggy, but my right foot was still moving... slowly tapping, searching for the gas pedal. More dull pierced metal sounds rang around me. The black car was still slowly moving forward slightly faster than us.

I let the car idle unsure of death or escape, hoping not to roll into a parked car. It seemed my life was tied directly to our forward motion. I laid still as if playing dead to a bear while conjuring the strength to utilize the gas pedal the tip of my foot had just discovered.

I faintly pictured my options. I tried to remember the layout of the street before me. I had to slam the gas pedal, whip the wheel towards the caddy to surprise them and avoid parked cars to my left, and duck down all at once, or just slump over and let it end.

I counted what could only have been milliseconds as I conjured the strength to react. I grappled the bottom of the steering wheel with my weak and shaky left hand, raising my right foot and firming my grip on the way to three.

1...

2...

I woke up, coughing and barely breathing.

This damned cold hasn't gone away yet. Hooray for over-the-counter medication.