A Fight and a Fall.
3/12/09
I dreamt I was in a fist fight. And won, too. My opponent was a few years younger than I imagine myself to be, perhaps seventeen years old. He was much bigger and stronger than me but I still managed to walk away with only a few bruises and bloody knuckles.
Even though he had mass on me, I had reach on him, and he only managed to land blows on me when he charged me in a narrow alley way between two buildings. I didn’t let him press his advantage, and got into a wider space as fast as I could.
In the end I beat him, raining down blows on his face and head until he fell over and put an arm up between us. I may not hit hard, but even light impacts on the noggin can be seriously painful and disorienting. We broke off the engagement, and strangely enough, he wasn’t upset at me. I wasn’t upset with him, either. I’m not sure either of us even knew why we were fighting.
Later, in the same dream, I was riding my bicycle with a different kid on a skateboard.. I’m not sure who he was, perhaps an amalgamation of people I once knew. He was fairly friendly, but as I followed after him, I think he was getting tired of me.
He went up to a high place, a location partially indoors, with a large open gap leading down to an alley below. Not far from the gap there were large pipes spanning it, leading to a flat roof on the other side. I was hot on his heels. I wasn’t sure how we got up there, and I foolishly followed after him as he skated to the gap and tried to jump out to land on the pipes. I thought I could make it, but here he got some air and landed safely, I fell to the ground, probably more than twenty feet below.
In most dreams where I fall, I wake up before impact. I thought about that as I fell, and made the decision not to wake up. This isn’t to say that I was having a lucid dream, as though I decided not to wake up, consciously, at the same time I wasn’t consciously aware that this was a dream.
It hurt. A lot. I collapsed in a heap, my bicycle partially on top of me and my legs tangled within it. I wasn’t sure if I was okay, but when the kid came down to see me I decided not to let him think I wasn’t hurt. He came over and looked at me. He didn’t seem concerned, which surprised me.
The specifics of the encounter have faded, as I went back to sleep after this dream and only wrote it down when I got up, hours later, but I remember hem seeming so blase that I worried he might not get me any help. I spoke to him, in a panting breathless whisper, when he asked me questions. Breathing was hard, but I wasn’t very worried about it, so I may have been faking it; I’m not sure.
He tried moving the bicycle, but my leg was caught in it. The pain I felt trying to disengage was making me question the reality of my injuries. I woke up as he left to get help, unsure if he’d finish the job. I wonder who he was…