Man, that Kyle shit has really had an affect on me. I keep having dreams where I get into some fucked up fighting situation, walking down Center Street in the middle of the night. Like ninja-style fighting, roundhouse kicks and shit. I am fighting the crack dealers who slink around the projects, alternately trying to sell to me or, more likely, rob me. I have a German Shepherd on a leash that is barking ferociously at them. I am strangely embarrased by this because I realize I am walking a racist dog, this despite that these guys are trying to get me. The trolley sometimes comes to the rescue. It comes out of nowhere and I just step on, it must be an outbound trolley because it's free. It's messed up, the trolley coming at just right moment actually isn't new. The old style cars that used to run down Commenwealth Ave., have been in my dreams as long as I can remember. It's the fighting and the German Shephard that are new. It must be julian and Dickon's dog, because that's the only German Shepard I know, she's big and imposing. So the dog and the fighting, those are the new parts.
This one dream I had, I remember the faces of the guys - they were the black guys who went after Vinnie and I with the golf clubs. That was a messed up situation and I remember the main kid. He looked like a nice kid, but he was calling us motherfuckers and telling us to get the fuck out of his neighborhood. A skinny black guy. In the real incident, Vinnie and I were driving Nat's go-cart around Nat's house and we got ambushed on the bike path down by the subway tracks. The motherfuckers got me in the back of the thigh with a golf club (I think it was a putter). Fuck, I didn't mean to get into this. German Shephards, fighting, the trolley - that's about where my head is at for the moment.
Jeez, I'm sorry - I set up this stupid blog to write about the satan crap and I've barely mentioned it yet. Tomorrow, I promise.
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