Tell me your thoughts on my garbage: In the beginning the dream starts relatively normal. I either feel so comfortable within it or simply allow myself to forget it is an illusion. Always watching from a third person perspective at all times I watch myself living a life so similar to my actual one but not. In Jungian psychology it would be called dream ego. I looked it up few times, what I got from it is the idea that it is something pertaining to real life but, something that you are yet to face or something you are refusing to acknowledge. Fucking psychologist always making up new ways for us to be broken, always finding new flaws or creating them. Anyway. So the dream is always the same, I'm watching myself work, shop, eating. Its all so fucking tedious the same shit routine over and over again. I don’t know why that surprised me though, boring life, boring dreams. I don’t know what I expected, maybe...maybe I thought if I just spent my time doing the right thing, putting in the effort being safe. I thought maybe it would be worth it. That's a joke though, shitty job, even shittier apartment. Dad drank too much and ran his mouth too often to the wrong people, I would always wish when I was a kid that he would just shut the fuck up. Well someone finally shut him up. Heh. Mom checked out shortly after. She was there but not there, I guess that's what love is though. Her husband was an ignorant angry and paranoid drunk who thought she was annoying and wasted more space than she took up. She loved him though. Losing him broke whatever was left in her. It took a few years but looking back I can remember them being happy. Its distant now but I can see the little smile she would crack in the side of her mouth when dad would say something snide to company. A normal family is not the wording I would use to describe us. There was this time, this time when I was a little younger. I was about five years older than Denny then. See we grew up in Ecorse, this little good for nothing smear from the American dream. I would go out and wander for hours on my own, exploring and digging through abandoned factories. So fuck, Denny goes and gets born and here we are now a duo. Thick as thieves. Just the two of us walking down cracked sidewalks Denny marking x's in green chalk for us to follow back in case we got lost. We would go out explore find artifacts, most we buried, made maps for locating our treasures. Just us, pirate kings and no one else. So I was saying there’s me and Denny doing our thing running around and playing, we had finally cleared a hole in the fence separating Thompsons Tires and The Frank Family Oil Center so we were marking new territory when we came across Sandy. Sandy had this brown hair that made me feel the way Elmer Fudd does when he sees Bugs in drag. When we walked up on her she was just siting there drawing on the pavement. She didn’t stop or even take notice of us. I think if it weren’t for the fact that Denny was so wrapped in his pirate king persona and loudly declared his stake in the land and his dominance over her that we could have just walked past her and nothing would have changed. So there’s Denny wooden sword drawn screaming at this girl about how she needs to address him as the pirate king when out of no where it happens. Just fucking BOOM! I was frozen for what seemed like hours even though it was only an instant. “You look like fags.” Tears well up in Denny’s eyes. Its then that I notice that she isn’t drawing shes holding a dog and she was petting him. Well she was petting him up until the point when she pushed a bullet right through his head. She just stands up all matter of fact like and slumps the dogs body aside. This brunette angel covered in blood now staring at me calling me a faggot while shes murdering dogs. I cant even think of how this can get any more bent when I suddenly notice the boner. Sandy steps over and takes Denny’s cowboy hat and hangs it on my penis, apologizing for interrupting whatever secret gay party we were planning. It takes me a half hour to convince her that were brothers and, that we were just out playing. I can feel her freckles staring at me in condescending manners. “he'd done gone rabid, or was fixin' to, I brought him here cause we used to play catch here. I saw that movie Old Yeller. I didn’t want my dad to kill him.” Denny is still a flurry of tears as I sit swallowing that sensation you get that says to just fucking run. “Why the fuck did you shoot him? He weren’t foaming then he weren’t rabid!” our eyes lock as the terror and anger fill up in my belly but she just brushes the hair away from here green eyes, eyes I will be lost in for years, and half smiles, “ I didn’t want him to die like that ya know. I wanted him to die as him. As him and loved instead of as something else being killed by a stranger.” I was too young to really appreciate what she said at the time but I still think about it all the time. I tell you Denny still sat there and cried while I helped her dig a grave and we buried that dog. None of us knew what was sitting at home waiting for us. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, we were late. Mom and dad would lay into us , tell us how irresponsible we behave. Constantly chirping on our short comings. I can remember the way the screen door just kinda swayed in the wind. It made me as apprehensive as could be. Denny tightens his mask so as to rally some last bout of courage. He thinks hes prepared but all he is, is a damn liability . A liability I love though. Front door creaks open and, it is in that moment that I realize that the streets were empty the whole way home. As I peer in I can already see the old man sitting at the table, beer in hand....but something is not right. I can hear our little sisters mobile playing in the background. Denny is still over with dad, if he's smart he'll just let him sleep it off rather than wake him and get a beating. I’ve walked down this hallway so many times, pictures of me, my siblings and other family members. The house is so quite now. Like no one lives here. BOOOM. Scared I drop to the floor lean against the wall. Am I crying? Should I be crying? Fuck. All the rooms are untouched, no looters, still something happened here. BOOM. Again with the fucking shots I don’t even know where they might be coming from. Frustrations build I snap. Throw pictures from shelves I curse the most horrible words I can think to whatever fucking god I think will listen. I throw the bathroom door open and find something I would never have have enough money to pay a shrink to fix if fucking shrinks were still there even. I found mom, I had found little Fiona.........BOOM. “Oh my god baby you’re alive, I thought the demons had gotten you.” what are you talking about what demons, what monsters? Wha..”The news said they were starting war, they dropped gas bombs it killed so many hunny. I just was so scared you were gonna come back again?” what are you even talking about mom, come back from what? Where is Fiona? Why are you in the bathroom? Dad is downstairs drunk and passed out we need to call 911 you need, help we need help we need we need