Action Hero

I consider it a sign of good health that I am able to dream a “fun” dream. I know that the most subtle underpinning of this dream is that a “Zoolander” ad was the last thing I saw on TV before I turned it off last night.

The dream was a fairly long and involved sequence of events. I know that I dreamed the complete cycle at least twice. I also remember a different thread, which I also dreamed twice, but my memory of it is more fuzzy. Maybe it was from earlier in the night; and maybe it was one resolution to the other, longer sequence. I’m not certain of that.

Currently, enough time has elapsed that many of the connecting scenes are fading from my memory, but I remember what seem to be the key scenes….

This was a not so far-future fantasy where Orwellian thought-police were rounding up innocent citizens for thought crimes, or maybe its a vision of our own not so distant future where Christians are rounded up for expressing their beliefs in dissent of a secular and martial government.

In any case, I am being chased.

As I write this, I realize this first part of the chase sequence I’ve dreamed before… At 29th and California, I am running to evade a goon squad. I am running in the alley behind Baskin Robbins and Burger King. The buildings are different from today; things are a bit more crowded, twisty – better for evasion. The trees are a bit more overgrown, offering better shadow and cover.

Its daylight this time, which forces me to rely on agility and wit. After several minutes of short pauses followed by periods of frantic running after I am flushed out from cover, I manage to stay secreted in the shadowy foliage of a tree where it presses against a building behind a dumpster. I watch as the police search, then withdraw in frustration.

I am a fugitive now, and that will suffice for them.

The neighborhood on the west side of California avenue is an older, overgrown neighborhood of single family homes, with a lot of ghetto housing scattered through it. My intent is to stay within the protection of these neighborhoods as I make my way downtown and west, out of the city.

I only move a few blocks before I am alarmed by the sounds of struggle and screeching tires. Just ahead of me a woman is also trying to flee from the same capture I had just escaped. She is frantic, arms flailing as she backs away from a cruiser. Police speak calming words to her as they try to grab her hands. I know immediately that I must try to rescue her. These officers do not look like the same group who were after me – apparently there were several squads making housecalls today. But I still needed a disguise, an alabi.

I ran up, and broke through the line of officers shouting “Wait! She is my wife! I can help calm her! Please!” my face obviously distraught for her pain. The officers didn’t challenge my claim, but did try to prevent me from interrupting. My distraction brought her to herself and she turned heel and ran; the officers once holding me now releasing me instead as we all run after her.

I managed to catch up with her, and together we ran. If the police neared, we would resume our roles, that she was the panicky wife, and I was the desperate husband trying to “talk sense to her”. Eventually, we managed to gain significant distance on them. By then, the police were wise to our partnership. In fact, I think my squad had come to assist. We were about to break clean away from our pursuers, when she slipped in classic movie fashion – reaching out to me, screaming, as police swarmed on her. I maintained my lead, and fled.

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