I Came to Fight


I can feel it. I am on the precipice of something special. Something so altering, it’s scary. I can smell a conclusion. It’s surpassed my bones and is in my soul. My spirit. Whether it’s victory or defeat, I’m unsure. I will work. I will grind until my fingers are numb. I will push and fight until I get to the finish line and then I will push and fight for more. My time is now. If it’s to make me or break me is unseen, but it’s here. And I will fight. Stay tuned.


So, No Shit…

Since I’ve come into adult hood I’ve realized that when it’s time to sleep, I’m too damn tired to even try to be vigilant of any post REM dreams that may be happening. I just can’t give a shit. There’s this one dream nightmare, though, that has stuck with me for a few weeks now. It’s got some holes in it as I try to recant it, but the gist is apparent.

I’m at a wedding. Not sure if it’s mine or I’m just an innocent bystander to this nonsense but it’s outside and everyone’s in white. Freaked me the hell out too. I feel like I was just a guest because I’m sitting in the audience on one of those white faux wood folding chair things that I could only imagine exist for such occasions. Where we are in the wedding, at this point, is unclear but the atmosphere seems innocent enough; there’s quiet banter, a live orchestra/band is playing, people are roaming about the yard. I guess from that description we can infer that we are in the midst of reception. Whatever, here comes the good shit.

I’m pretty sure my dream-self wasn’t sitting there waiting for middle earth to explode and a war of the worlds to unfold but that’s exactly what happened. One second, it’s a bright and serene setting and the next it’s a clash of the fucking titans as these Congolese war lords climb out of topiary and instantly start going ape shit with their battle axes and sabers. I kid you not, it was a scene from Hotel Rwanda and Wedding Crashers. The skies were blood-red and stricken with smoke from where ever the hell bombs came from. The canopy was tattered and flailing in the wind. There was blood everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I am in a full-fledged fight for my life.

At this point, it gets pretty vague and blurry. I’m pretty sure a minotaur made an appearance. Most of what I remember here involved me in a hand to hand situation with the biggest, ugliest humanoid I’d ever seen. Being that I live in New York, it’s safe to judge real life meetings, as well as in my dreams. This is about the time that I wake up in a WTF, panicked, “oh shit I’m late for work” moment.

Again, I’m not one to relish on my dreams and determine what they mean and if they have some existential effect on my life. I just thought that the one that continues to haunt me is some Sci-Fi bullshit that is so far removed from the person that I am. Why can’t I be haunted by Beyoncé?