It happens every time I polish off a bottle of red wine before bed. The dreams are insane, and for the most part indecipherable and violent. Most of the time I can't remember what happened when I wake up, let alone what they mean...if, that is, dreams are supposed to mean something in the first place. Upon waking, the dream usually fades off back into my subconscious, last night was not one of those cases.
My boss had given me a present, for what reason I have no idea. He placed a small .22 caliber pistol equipped with a silencer into my hand and thanked me for my hard work. I got the feeling it was a going away gift but there is no way to be sure. Then, in the strange manner that dreams progress, I found myself lost in a jungle.
It seemed that every few feet I walked a snake would materialize from the bush and attempt to bite my ankles. After some time of evading their strikes one succeeded, I looked down and saw the blood running down my leg. I bent over and picked the snake up, it bit me again on the hand before I tightened my grip around its throat. I held its head steady and leveled the .22 under its chin and pulled the trigger.
Suddenly I was in the living room of a house I had not lived in for a few years. The snake was dead in my hands and its blood splattered on the wall. I tossed the still wriggling carcass to the ground before being awoken by the fucking garbage truck emptying the dumpster in my parking lot.
I thought about it as I drove into work this morning, what it meant...it didn't take me long to come to a conclusion. You see Monday I got a text message from my ex-girlfriend, the one who tried her hardest to destroy me only a few months ago. She needed her flash drive back and would buy me a bourbon for my trouble. I responded, telling her I would meet her at 6:30.
I put my cigarette out on the curb and walked in, I was early. I sat there thinking about how pissed my actual girlfriend was that I was meeting Meg for a drink, but my curiosity got the better of me...I could not resist. The waitress took my order, a bourbon and a High Life, and asked if someone was meeting me. I nodded and then noticed her walk in. She sat down. We said hello. It was silent for a moment...
She was visibly nervous, chattering away as I sat there sipping my drink and listening to the details of her life for the past year. She was skirting around the obvious, "It's ok, you can talk about Mike if you want," I told her. Of course no matter how much I hate my former best friend, I was immensely curious how the two of them had been getting on since the beginning of their little "behind the back affair." She told me he was getting ready to be transferred down to Georgia, apparently that's where you get sent when you're the top tobacco salesman in Ohio. She answered the way I figured she would when I asked if she was going to move with him.
She didn't give much away, but I could tell it was weighing heavy on her. I pressed on, telling her about my girl and how I couldn't be happier with her. As I said it I was flooded with a whole list of reasons why she is everything Meg never was. It came to me suddenly and I understood that all the pain was completely worth it.
We stood outside of the bar for a minute as I finished a cigarette, finishing the game of catch up we were playing. I said goodbye and turned to walk away, she stood there for a second, as if I was going to come back. I got into the car and called my notably pissed off girlfriend to tell her it had gone "well," whatever that meant. I showed her and myself I was happier without her, regardless of how hard they had both tried to put me under and I realized all over again why I am so lucky today.
But more importantly, I proved something to myself, that I am the bigger man, the one who isn't going to harbor hard feelings or act like a child. I had told her honestly I hoped things worked out for her and I meant it. I finally realized I had what I needed all along, closure. I had moved on and I ended up on top.
As for my dear "friend" Mike, now he is another story. From what it sounded like, he had assumed all along that Meg would make the move with him when he got transferred. For someone who had never been more than 50 miles from home, that must have been important to him. But once again, my free-spirited ex proved to me that she had not changed a bit...she wasn't going with him. He had thrown away the 6 years of good times we had for a woman who never saw him in her future anyways. Besides, I never understood how her...or any girl for that matter could go for a guy who spent more money than her on hair care products.
Hair gel was invented to identify assholes from a distance.
He told me once, a long time ago, that he wanted to get out of here just as bad as I did, he just didn't want to go by himself. He was afraid of being so far from home and knowing no one. He said this place was getting to him, killing him, so to speak. I bet he thought he had it all worked out, he sacrificed me for her...but look what he ended up with.
So it quickly became apparent, on my ride in, what my dream meant. The snakes in my life may bite and for a while think I am defeated....but in the end I will win. I will always win, no matter how hard they try to make me fall. In the end, the inevitable end, I will watch with a grin on my face as the pieces of the life he thought he built on my back are sprayed all over the wall like the snake in my dream.
Good riddance you cunt.