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One of the benefits of standing over six feet tall and weighing around two hundred pounds is that, just by looking formidable, I am very rarely concerned for my personal safety. Even in dreams, I am not one to be trifled with, as Friend George recently informed me in the following e-mail. If you don’t find it funny, I will tear your fucking head off.
Subject: What does it mean?
To: York, JulieI just woke up from a dream with you two in it.
We were all in some foreign country…not in China. you two had come to visit me… York decided he was going to try his hand in the local underground fighting scene. We were in a big city with lots of people… the underground fighting was really big there.
It was a really industrial, dirty, grey city. Lots of monotonous concrete and steele. York trained for a while, then in his first fight he drew the 3rd best fighter in the city. The match was in a fenced in area a little bigger than a boxing ring in the basement of some factory.
York just tore the other guy appart, real horror-show bloody with the sounds of cartilage tearing and all, but somehow it was no big deal… not really disturbing at all like it should have been. You didn’t kill the other fighter, but he was all messed up when it was done.
After the fight was over you came out of the ring with a subdued little smile on your face… Julie ran over with a big smile and gave me a hug and said “thanks for inviting us out, George! We needed a break!”
York unwraps the bloody sports tape from around his wrists and knuckles, looking all calm and pleased with himself, and says “well THAT was easier than I thought….” … and we start walking away… the dream went on, we went over to my friends house and played poker and some other things…, but that was the really crazy part.
So what the hell does THAT mean?
-George
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