Grocery Store Drama

The Dreamer is inside a familiar grocery store with other people.

The people are supposed to get certain items. The Dreamer forgets what items have been assigned to him. The Dreamer is distracted by ice creams in the ice cream cooler and can’t decide which one he wants. He spends so much time at the ice cream cooler that the people that he arrived with leave him behind. Then the Dreamer sees his Father Jeff in the check-out line, and asks him for a ride. Father agrees and says that his leg hurts. The Dreamer feels bad for him, about his leg. They leave together.

Then the Dreamer is outside of the grocery store with a group of old friends. They are present-day age (40s) but they still rode bicycles to the store. A group of young punks harasses the Dreamer. One of them is a Thief. The Thief steals his bike. He runs after the Thief and catches him. The Thief is a Child. The Dreamer bodyslams the Child. The bodyslam severely hurts the Child. The Dreamer feels bad for him. Someone says he’s still alive. The Dreamer cradles the Child in his arms and takes him into the Father’s car, to drive the injured Child to the hospital.

Then the Dreamer is driving. His old friend Rory, The Bully, is in the passenger seat. The Dreamer knows that he is guilty for the crime of disproportionate violence, but him and The Bully make up a story of self-defense. Of course, The Bully agrees with the alibi. They pass police and ambulances on the road. The Dreamer wonders why he didn’t just call 9-1-1- for the Child.

Context: My Father Jeff is alive and lives in Chicago with my step-mother Susan. He has chronic hip and knee pain. We speak on occasion. Rory is an old friend, from grammar school through high school. He was a friend, a protector, and a bully. He was a trained martial artist and boxer and used his strength to get his way.

Associations: The ice cream aisle is a place that I stop sometimes when I shop, usually to browse and enjoy the flavors in the case, all of the sugary options. My bike was stolen when I was a boy, ostensibly by some punks. They stole it from the basement in the apartment complex where we lived. I had not locked the bike that night.

Feelings: distraction, anger, guilt