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Worldwide Ace » Murder on the Highway

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Murder on the Highway

23 September, 2002 (22:58) | Dreams

Whomever we were, we were taking a road trip, across the entire nation, spilling from city to city like a rip tide running across sand castles left from the day. Damn, that’s poetic. We went to people’s houses and spent afternoons hanging out and chatting, and then hopped back in the van and drove. It felt boring and mundane, like I was trapped in a never-ending cycle, and yet I also felt as if I had never been so free. In New York, we murdered this guy, but it seems like such a minor point in the trip. We tossed his body in the Meadowlands and never got in trouble. I don’t even think we had a reason for killing him.

Eventually, when we got to Boston, I gave a guided tour, pointing out landmarks and historical sites, occasionally getting an “I’ve been there!” response from one of my trip mates. However vivid and real the dream was suddenly died when I looked out my van window and saw swing sets on trolley cars…

When I say trolley cars, I’m not talking the T. I’m talking full-blown dandy-slapping San Franciscan trolly cars. Boston doesn’t even have trolly cars, let alone ones with giant swing sets on them.

After a while, we made it to my elementary school. We snuck in a back entrance and stole everything from the band room, except for the electric chapman stick (12 string bass), which was the only thing I wanted.

As we were sneaking out, someone spotted us. One of the gang got caught and couldn’t make the jump into the back of van suddenly turned station wagon. Unfortunately, one of our prospective captors did. As she climbed towards the back seat, I dove into the trunk and shoved her out the open hatch onto the open highway and laughed as I watched her rib cage open and her body get torn asunder.

Then I stopped laughing. I probably stopped because laughing was a really sick and twisted thing to do. I don’t remember what happened next, but I was half-awake when the dream ended and by the time I got out of the shower, I could’ve sworn I had washed blood off my body. Of course, being a guy, it couldn’t have been my time of the month. Anyway, that was one fucked up dream.

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  • Yes. Yes it was. And may I add… Eww?

    Also, yes, that was poetic. 🙂 Wish I could think of randomly brilliant lines when I try to write.

  • Yes. Yes it was. And may I add… Eww?

    Also, yes, that was poetic. 🙂 Wish I could think of randomly brilliant lines when I try to write.