“Understand young man…once you open this door there is no going back.”

I understood that what the old black man was telling me was very cliche. It still made me go cold. I panicked and went over my choices. Why did I do this?

Then I was in bed. It was dark. Heather was there. Thank God, it was just a dream.

I knew that thanking God that the events going on in my brain just seconds prior were just a dream was very cliche. But I still couldn’t help feeling extremely relieved.

I planted an explosive device at some movie theater on the outskirts of town. Not one I went to (no of course not).

Authorities found it before it, um, exploded. I don’t know why I committed this act. I believe I was protesting something. Something made me angry and I decided to respond. With terroristic murder. I suppose.

There was a hunt going on. A hunt for me, a manhunt. They were going to find me. They always do. I decided to cut to the chase and get it over with. I was starting to feel guilt over the fact that I had tried to kill a number of innocent strangers over an issue that I could not remember.

I went to my theater. It was part of the same chain. I think it was an AMC. (In real life I don’t HAVE a theater. I frequent several, but if I did go to one over all others I don’t think it would be an AMC.)

Here at the box office ticket booth I was going to turn myself in. It seemed like a good idea at the time? Manning the booth was not some sophmore in high school but two bored uniformed police officers.

“Yes?” one said without barely looking up while the other read his magazine.

I said nothing but looked down. Sighing, I righted myself and stared at them, my oppressors (still don’t know why or how they oppressed me but they DID).

I still said nothing, at which point the officer on the right peeked up over his magazine.

I couldn’t look at them, I looked up away, full of guilt.

“I…um…” my voice was weak. Extremely nervous, I was shaking as bad as I did when I proposed to Heather.

Now they knew. Both stared at me with only the glass partition separating us. I could see them judging the distance, sensing something was about to go down.

“…it was me. I planted the bomb.” Even though they knew it they were still taken aback. Magazine officer exited the booth and emerged with a pair of handcuffs.

I always wondered what it would feel like to get cuffed. It wasn’t that bad. (cuz it was fake idiot)

Then I stayed in the booth with them watching football all day while we waited for the FBI. They were kinda, and a couple times I went to the refrigerator and got drinks for all of us, telling them “don’t get up, I’ll get it”.

The games ended and the day was waning when the FBI guys got there. Two older black gentlemen. My new police friends hushed up when they arrived and spoke in whispers with the FBI guys in the far side of the room. (were we even in the ticket booth anymore? There’s a refrigerator so I don’t know).

When I was a kid and acted up in daycare, I was sent to the corner. When Mom came to pick me up the daycare woman would speak with her in low tones, casting occassional glances my way. I could always tell the instant that whatever I did was conveyed to my mother, as her eyes would shoot to me and narrow.

ack!

Now was the same, except I was in handcuffs and my life was OVER. These men would decide my fate. Rarely have I been this scared awake as I was now asleep.

One of the older black men shuffled over and sat down across from me.

“You’re sure you want to do this? “Understand young man…once you open this door there is no going back.”

Did I have a choice? Where was my lawyer? I need a lawyer, my life can’t be over this soon!

Why did I do it?? Why did I have to do that terrible thing??