Now bad news.

If you read the previous post you'll see that this 'bad' dream followed a very good dream - hence the title. This dream took place at my maternal grandparent's old house on 87th and Princeton, where oddly enough several of my dreams centered around violence take place. Growing up I remember feeling unsafe at this house. I love my family, but there was a time (especially when I was young) when the corner across the street from their house became a spot frequented by gang members and drug dealers but not much by police. There were holes in some of the walls and ceilings where stray bullets had come through. When there at night, the kids were told to stay away from windows and watch TV on the floor instead of on the bed or couches. I think back now and wonder if that's why my grandpa starting laying down on the couch to watch TV. As the only member of my family that never lived in that house (or in my paternal grandparent's house just down the block) and to grow up in the suburbs, these were very unnerving times. Now at the age of 26 and still never having lived in the city of Chicago, these thoughts seem even more foreign.



My mom, dad, sister, and I were at my grandparents house. I must have been getting ready for bed because I'd wrapped my hair and tied it up with a blue bandana. Not sure about going to bed though because I was wearing one of those old-school pullover coats that we all had in like 7th grade. Looking at myself in the mirror with that bandana and coat on I thought to myself how I looked like a gang member. Almost before I could get the though through my head, I heard a commotion outside. A gang member rival to the gang I had inadvertantly dressed myself up like spotted me in the window and was readying his weapon. Before I knew it he was in the window with his gun pointed right at us. My parents crouched down on the floor, so did I. I started pleading with him, insisting that I wasn't a gang member and to please leave us alone. I put my head down half hoping he'd just go away, half hopeing that if I didn't see it coming the shot wouldn't hurt as much. I heard shots fired. They were quiet, not nearly as loud as they should have been considering the gun was maybe a foot away from me. But I didn't feel anything. When I looked up he was gone. My mom and dad each had a single bullet hole in their foreheads. My brother (who wasn't previously in the dream) trudged over to the wall where my parents lay slumped. He too had been shot in the head. My sister sat on bed next to me. I couldn't tell if she'd been shot. I was suddenly overcome by sadness as I realized my entire family had been taken from me all because of some stupid bandana and coat. I begin thinking to myself how this gang violence has gotten out of hand - a thought that comes to mind each and every day in the real world.



The police and paramedics must have came and taken my family away, though I didn't see it happen. Next thing I know I was in front of a camera, pleading with the public to help capture this person who'd killed my family. I was threatening him. Saying that whether or not he is caught his death will be followed by a hell unlike any hell he has experienced on this Earth. I had lost everything and hoped that his death was as painful as my life right then. I didn't wake up in a fit. Instead I opened my eyes slowly, it being morning and me not being in a deep sleep to begin with.



The dream clung to me. it made me angry and exhausted. It made me feel the pain of all those that have lost their innocent child, mother, father, cousin, friend to gang violence. As I start to come to I think 'let's turn on the news and see who else the animals have killed this past night'. Not many shootings to report today and oddly no murders. A UPS driver shot in the back in West Englewood in a robbery attempt. Now in critical condition. Maybe all the murders happened in my dreams last night. If I could do that every night for the City of Chicago I would. I'd never have a sound sleep, but a mere cost if you ask me.