DRAGONS, MONSTERS AND VAMPIRES

by

Aunt B

When I was little I used to dream a lot. It might be about a test at school or a dog chasing me, nothing ever worth telling. No plot, no story, no punch line. When I told my sister about my dreams, she’d say, “You call that a dream? Then she’d start telling me about her dreams of dragons, monsters and vampires. I wasn’t going to play, “Can You Top This” with her, so I kept my dreams to myself until I finally stopped dreaming. I tried to make myself dream, but I had no inkling of how to get started. I ate things at night that didn’t agree with me. They just kept me awake so I couldn’t dream. Scary movies didn’t help either. Finally reaching old-age I gave up the whole idea.

The night I made that decision I had my first dream in years. It had a beginning, a middle but no ending.

I dreamed I was walking down a street and I heard a “Psst! Hey you.”

I looked around but I didn’t see anybody.

“Down here!”

It was coming from the sewer. No wonder I hadn’t noticed. “Are you talking to me?”

“Anybody else in the area?”

I looked around. Didn’t see anyone else. “No.”

“Then I guess I was talking to you, stupid.”

“What do you want?” I asked, more curious than angry.

“I want you to get me outta here, dumb-dumb.”

“If you’re going to insult me I’m leaving. I’ve been brought up to help people in trouble but I shouldn’t be abused while I’m doing it.”

“Excuse me. I’ve been down here so long I don’t know how to act civil anymore.”

“How long is long? I’ve passed here dozens of times and you never stopped me before.”

“I couldn’t stop anybody until I managed to remove my gag.”

“Who put you in there?”

“An angry mob.”

“Why did you make them angry?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. But that’s neither here nor there. They’ll be back soon and if I don’t escape before they return I’ll be transferred to a more secure location. Many Guantanamo. Nobody will ever hear from me again.”

Even after he’d insulted me I began to feel sorry for the poor fellow. “This ought to be reported to the authorities.”

“Well, don’t call the The Securities and Exchange Commission.” His laugh had no humor behind it.

“Why not?”

“Story is I’m in league with the devil. I’ve got no standards.”

“You don’t believe in standards?”

“Standards are for morons.”

“What about principals?”

“Take my advice. Principals are passé. I speak from experience.”

“What about Oculus Dei---the eye of God. Did I get the Latin right?”

“How the heck would I know? I majored in creative math.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Try to lift the damn grate cover.”

“I’ll try. Rusty hinges screeched as I hoisted the lid. I tried not to notice the tiny feet that scurried over my shoes. I won’t even mention the stench. “What do I do next?”

“”Help me out you idiot.”

To my surprise, up popped the face I had been watching for days on CNN, NBC and CNBC in appalling fixation. My constant household irritant. I recognized a grimy, Bernie Madoff.

Nasty ideas went careening through my head, colliding with conventional values and good sense. I stepped on his head and dragged the heavy lid closed

Then I woke up.

My dream had a beginning, a middle and an ending.