I had a strange dream last night. Not that I don’t have a lot of strange dreams, but this one stuck more so for some reason. I guess when mostly because when I woke up from it, I stayed awake for another two hours.
I was in the remnants of a parking garage, below ground. Crouching behind a fallen pillar I was with my father and some very scared students. In the distance we could see a man through a collapsed wall in a cement room of the parking structure, he had some other students tied up and looked to be fashioning, or sharpening tools to do some medieval stuff. I had a piece of rebar as did my father and somehow I was able to slide it back and forth over the cement and get the end not only sharp, but red hot.
My father was surveying the scene, as I did this and the background noise was the students behind us crying, asking what we were going to do, and asking what was going to happen to their friends tied up. We both ignored them as we made sure the make-shift weapons were ready. I was crouched low, keeping my rebar red hot, while my dad was staring straight ahead. I stopped for a moment and said “What are you thinking? High, low?”
“Yup” he responded.
We jumped out from behind the debris and sprinted toward the man. He saw us coming and came running toward us with a large sharp metal object. Just as we were about to collide I went into a crouch and took a huge swing at his shins, he began to fall forward from the momentum of his run being stopped suddenly by my swing and as he began to fall forward my dad took a baseball style swing and brought his rebar straight into his skull.
The whole scene unfolded in a “300” style fast/slow scene. We sprinted fast, but everything slowed down to when we hit, every bone splintering hit happened in super slow motion and I remember watching the body go forward, then a super fast swing to the head and it slowly went up.
The body hit the ground, and my dad had to step on his chest to pry the rebar out of his head.
I remember feeling really good afterwards. I woke up moments later and for some reason I couldn’t get back to sleep. I think it had something to do with how vividly I felt the attack, the sudden stop of my rebar as it hit shin, the warmth of blood on my face and arms, and for some reason, how all I had to say was “high, low” and we instantly understood. As if we had an arsenal of coordinated attacks with different nicknames.