Last night (or this morning) I dreamt that I was a terrorist. No kidding. In this dream, I was solely responsible for leveling, destroying, obliterating two cities. Two. Millions of people were dead. Millions. And I did it. Yeah, me. And I wasn't this extremist, ultra right-wing nut job clinging to my guns and my bible, either. I was just me. And only two people knew about it. One was my friend, Fletch. Yeah, his name is Fletch. He wouldn't talk to me because he was upset that I killed millions of people. He didn't turn me in, but he gave me the cold shoulder. I was upset that I killed all those innocent people, but I was even more upset that Fletch wouldn't talk to me. The other guy was someone I didn't recognize, but he didn't seem to care that I destroyed these places. He kinda thought it was cool. He even offered me a job to help rebuild the towns.
The ironic thing about it was that I was part of a group that went in to one of the cities to clean up debris. And no one was the wiser...
I'm not proud of it. Actually, its pretty disturbing. But sometimes, whether I like it or not, I dream that I'm a terrorist.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Better a terrorist than a complacent Christian...there are worse things. :)
Post a Comment