Practicing creative nonfiction using two (sleep) dreams I had on a hot, humid night, part 1

Two dreams from last night, remembered creatively.

Slept on the downstairs bed, too hot and humid upstairs. Went to bed at 10:00 p.m. slept until 2:10 waking from an extortion/assertiveness in action kind of dream.

Extortion/Assertiveness in Action Dream

I was in my late ’60s early 70s, as I am now. Apparently I owned a large parcel of property, many many acres, in a prime development area of a medium-sized settlement somewhere in North America. Not sure if it was Canada, didn’t quite feel like it.

I was standing, then sitting and then standing again. I think I was fairly well dressed. I was definitely feeling confident regardless of the clothes and the situation.

The situation was me, on the hot seat as the saying goes.

He was sitting. It was outdoors, he, sitting in a deluxe lawn chair. He was younger, late 50s, early 60s I think. He was better dressed — dressed as the boss, possibly mafioso, that vibe anyway. He was somewhat good looking in a scary sexy way.

The other he — dressed rough and wearing the expression of the classic tough guy was standing at the ready to do the boss’s bidding. Not sexy at all, only looking disgustingly thuggish.

It was the classic extortion setup and I wasn’t having any of it. I was all mouth, cool, collected and scared shitless on the inside.

Boss man says, in a kind voice with manipulating overtones, “So are you going to sign?”

He wanted that property badly. I could tell he owed favours, he had debts, he’d been called to account by his bosses.

Time for some clever bargaining I thought. Making myself known I said, “That land has been in my family for generations. I like it as a green space.”

He said, “Come on it’s worth millions.”

I was still standing when his henchman, behind me now, moved in closer and put his ugly finger in my back, hard.

I jumped away saying, “Don’t you touch me!” my voice loud, emphatic and indignant.

Henchman looked alarmed, wasn’t expecting that response. Boss man looked away.

“This is how you negotiate?” I said to boss man in a firm but soft voice, expecting an answer.

Boss man’s expression softened. He motioned with his hand for me to sit in the empty chair beside him. I didn’t want to exude fear, so I sat.

Soon others appeared, not all from his team. Some seemed to be neutral and curious. They wanted to know what I would say.

I felt I needed these neutrals’ approval so I launched into a rant about the desperate need for affordable housing and that there had to be green spaces for community food gardens. (Always the activist, even in my dreams).

Boss man rolled his eyes but I could feel he was listening and somewhat open.

Henchman, totally off cue, moved in close again, this time, since I was sitting, he dug his index finger hard into the crown of my head. I remember the pain as his grubby fingernail, sharpened to a point, almost cut into my scalp.

I jumped up, lightening fast, rubbing my head, I said, “Don’t touch me you mother fucker, back off, back down, get away from me!!” in a loud and commanding voice.

Boss man was not pleased; he had just been making progress with me. He waved henchman away.

Henchman disappeared out of the dream.

Boss said, “How much do you want, a couple hundred?”

In the dream I remember thinking he really meant just a couple of hundred dollars and I thought he was joking around just to exasperate me. I laughed at his joke.

I said, “Who is your developer? I won’t sign until I get to choose the developer. Don’t be thinking about erasing me. I die, or worse, it all goes into an untouchable Trust. I signed the paperwork last week.”

Of course I hadn’t set up the Trust yet but I had owned the land long enough it was definitely plausible.

That was me thinking on my feet inside a dream!!

He bought it, then said he would provide me with a list.

I said, “And none of your OC friends please. They are all well known.”

His grin strained a bit at this because all his associates were OC but he was willing to play along.

I woke up wondering where that dream came from but feeling proud of my fast acting assertive behaviour.

In case you didn’t figure it out — OC stands for organized crime.

I am open to all interpretations of my creatively enhanced dreams.

The Second Dream

The second dream is much more emotional because it’s about my late Uncle Pete, my mother’s younger brother. He passed away in 2017, the same year she passed. He had COPD from a lifetime of smoking. She passed from fronto-temporal dementia, a cruel and rotten diagnosis.

They moved on together we could say.

I will post this dream next time because I am not able to deal with the grief right now.