I'm Callin' the fuckin' cops!

A door I've stepped through
In my subconscious mind's eye
I fear I'm watching

Weird ass dream

Alright I think this is significant, I will get to the heading of the post in a second. I have been having a recurring dream for almost 10 years now, not every night of course but probably once or twice a month, but I have had the same one or a version of it every night for the last 3 days, so I am wondering if there is a couch psychic who can tell me what this means:

In my dream I am in a familiar house. I am always alone, and incredibly afraid. I go to the same closet, in every house (the house is never the same it is always a familiar house but the layout changes), one that is always on the second floor and on the second room to the right, and the door is always the same. I open the door and see what I always perceive as myself hanging from the ceiling by a rope. I usually have a black bag over my head but not always. I then start running down the stairs, my own body in close pursuit, and I wake up right as I catch myself.

Last night, I had a dream where I knew that was going to happen, and in my dream I was trying to put up mental blocks to stop myself from getting in there. It's hard to explain, but in my dream I was imagining what was on the other side of each door before I went through it, and then opening the door. I was in an office, not a house, and I went through the first door after calming myself and telling myself that it was not my house, and when I went through, it was not. It was like a huge warehouse, like I was somehow behind my dream, with thousands of different doors on many levels. I went up to a door, and opened it after calming myself and was in some really crappy apartment, loke it had been bombed out. There were a bunch of little kids under the floorboards crawling around, and once outside I realized the apartment was in a warehouse and on top of a huge mountain of glass bottles. there was some guy sitting in a car off to the side, smoking and checking his watch like he was waiting for something. I started throwing baseballs through some of the windows, and some guy in a suit came up from the apartment and told me how well I threw. From here the dream sped up, and I walked backwards through each door I had come through, imagining what was behind it when I walked through it. I went back to the warehouse, back to the empty office building, and back into the office, all walking backwards. I turned around and then jumped on the desk and hung myself.

Anyway, on to some happy times!

So when we lived in North Kansas City, I was not what you would call a "devil with the ladies". I was more "fat", and "disgusting", but I digress. I had a friend that was a girl named Keela, and I am not sure how we became friends but I do know I had the biggest crush on her after she beat the living shit out of me, so I hung out at her house a lot. She had this neighbor, "Roberto", who was a little younger than us and a little....weird. He was in complete and total love with Keela, and strangely enough, with me as well. Whenever I was at her house playing SNES or just trying to outfart her, he would be over there saying vastly more and more inappropriate stuff, like "Dang Steve you got a big dick! Can I touch it?" (no joke, this was verbatim), and once, when we were just sitting on the front stoop, "I got fucked up the ass by a guy once." No one had been talking for like 5 minutes up to that point.

So time passed, Dad got more and more into the crack cocaine, my retarded neighbor tried to molest me once (she cornered me and tried to kiss me, it was really tough to push her away without touching her smelly body), we beat Roberto with foam bats once a week, and then it happened.

I was playing Madden 95 against Long John, and I was winning. We were pretty happy, since the power was supposed to get shut off that day but they had apparently forgotten to, and Dad and Janet were smoking up his check in the other room to celebrate. All of a sudden JJ and Fatso run in and tell us Roberto had beat them up. I was unbelieving, since we had beaten him up so many times with those foam bats, wiffle bats, teddy bears and other assorted items it seemed impossible that he could ever defeat anyone (except Smeagol, but that does not count as human) in physical or mental combat. We set out to find him, me following Long John, and found him standing in the middle of the street like a moron.

Before I go on, my intent was to scare him and then laugh as he wallowed like a loser. Long John had other ideas. We stood there, I was behind Long John, and I let him do the talking. He seemed pretty angry, and I assumed he was acting but as the talking turned to yelling my alarmometer, which went off every time Dad bought crack rocks on credit, started going crazy.

"Why you messin' with my little brothers, man?" Long John was yelling, and getting into what I realized was a fighting stance. Roberto was still blissfully unaware, and was just telling him to drop the tough guy act, when Long John punched him right in the top of the head. Roberto fell back, grabbing his head, and started babbling "The cops, I'm callin' the fuckin' cops" over and over again like a mantra, and ran home.

Later JJ and Fatso informed us they had lied, they just wanted to see him get beat up. I went over to apologize, and his dad informed me he was in his room.

You know on Law & Order: SVU, when they break into the boarded up apartment the child molester has been using as his hideout, and it's all dark and you are instantly afraid they will turn on the blacklight and see all the semen all over the place? This was like that, but I didn't need a blacklight to see most of the jizz. I will explain:

He had an olive green army blanket on his bed, and there were 4 or 5 nice sized protein stains on there, along with jizz tracks all over the rest of his blanket, like he had started spraying and simply could not stop. He had an Ultimate Warrior wrestling poster on one wall, and (I kid you not) a New Kids on the Block poster next to a Cure poster on the other wall. He asked me to sit on the bed to talk to him, and I declined, pointing out the jizz. "Everyone has some on their beds, it's not that big of a deal." I hurriedly apologized then broke out of there. I would not feel that disgusted until I saw Mystery naked a few years into the future.