Last night I dreamt that I killed a friend from my past.
Tyrone (in reality) was a good friend until I came out, then literally turned his back on me. No loss, I haven’t missed him for a moment in the last 15 years.
Tyrone (in dreamland) was at a party I was throwing. I’m not sure how I killed him, but he was in the kitchen making a drink when I realized there were no witnesses around. So I did whatever I did, and stuffed his corpse into the pantry.
Trying to dispose of the body was complicated. I tried shoving him out the window into the compost bin, but he was too bulky and heavy. I tried chopping him into bits and walking him out in shopping bags, but I buy crap kitchen knives – they were too dull.
After that, escape seemed to occupy the time. How could I get away? When was the last time anyone saw him? My answer was going to be that he’d wandered away from the party plastered, after I wouldn’t let him drive home drunk. What, he didn’t turn up at home? “Gosh officer, I have no idea what could have happened.” There was a lot of time spent in the dream performing risk assessments. If I do this, how can I explain it? If I say this, how can it be countered? The more I investigated, the clearer my answers and alibis would be.
Funny, morality never entered my mind.
At one point, I woke up to get a blanket. I told Wife that I’d dreamt of killing someone. She casually mumbled something like “don’t do that honey.” Gotta love a woman that doesn’t judge!