Nightmare #1
A bus drops an old couple and me off at a stop in the middle of a tree-lined suburban street. We are lost. The couple says they have an appointment. Do I know where Route 7 is? I say I don’t know, but I’ll check my cell. My cell doesn’t work. I point at a street sign at the end of the block. Maybe that’s 7, I say. They disappear. I follow in the direction they might be going, but when I arrive at the street sign, it is blank, and the couple is nowhere to be found. However, I do spy my father-in-law running down the street. He has Alzheimer’s, so I take chase. He falls several times, but I never catch up. He disappears.
I pause long enough for an invisible string to pull me toward a house with a mansard roof behind a wrought-iron fence. The gate to the fence creaks open. The door to the house creaks open, and there in the middle of the dark paneled hallway stands a bearded man in a red dinner jacket. Two detectives question him about his part in a social security fraud ring. They drag him around the house for some reason, and I follow. We head to the basement, where the man seems reluctant to go. We turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs and come to a door where a dark-haired woman appears with a knife aloft. She attacks the bearded man, drags him to the floor, and is about to stab him when one of the detectives shoots her in the arm. I awake.
Analysis of Nightmare # 1
You are lost with an old couple in a tree-lined suburb, representing peace and tranquility, at least on the outside. Though your cell doesn’t work, you point the couple in the right direction so they can make their appointment. They disappear. Your father-in-law appears running down the street, probably Route 7, though you don’t know. He has Alzheimer’s, and though you are not like him entirely, you are both clueless. You run after him. He disappears, probably on an appointment of his own. You are tired and confused. You rest. A string grabs you. A string is like hair. Hair grows from your head [like ideas sprout from your brain.] The string drags you towards a house with a mansard roof, probably a mansion. Houses represent the dwelling places of your heart.
Since this house is a mansion, your heart is concerned with material possessions. You are afraid for the future, represented by the bearded man. He is involved in social security fraud. He is wearing a red jacket. You inherited a red jacket from your father. The bearded man is you. The detectives drag you down to the basement, where a dark-haired woman attempts to stab you. Your wife is dark-haired. She hates beards. Why does your wife try to stab you? Maybe she is trying to make a point powerfully. You are not a good listener. But no matter, the detective stops your wife from making her point, and you are left in the dark in a place that is not peaceful or tranquil. Your father-in-law and the old couple made their appointment, but you didn’t. Did they come to this house or another one? It is doubtful that they came to this house. Their thoughts must lead them elsewhere while yours lead you here. Or maybe it isn’t your thoughts. Perhaps your wife is trying to point out that sometimes the doubts and social and other kinds of insecurity caused by reality trump your dreams. Who knows? These are not normal times.
Jeff Richards’ memoir of the sixties, Nothing Left to Lose or How Not to Start a Commune (Circuit Breaker Books), will be released on April 8, 2025. He has published two novels, Open Country: A Civil War Novel in Stories (Paycock Press, 2015) and Lady Killer (Mint Hill Books, 2019), plus a short story collection, Everyone Worth Knowing (Circuit Breaker Books, 2021). His fiction, essays, and cowboy poetry have appeared in over 27 publications, including Pinch, Southern Humanities Review, Gargoyle Online, and five anthologies, such as Tales Out of School (Beacon Press). You can find him at jeffrichardsauthor.com.