I dreamt I was in a gunfight last night. I’m posting this on Off-Topic because this post isn’t about guns, its about dreams.

I don’t believe dreams have any meaning, I’m convinced that they are just random neuron firings, perhaps some kind of maintenance program the brain runs, like a file compression or a defrag routine. Their physiological function may have absolutely nothing to do with their content. But I know they sometimes are related to a topic that’s been on our mind sometime prior to the dream, and we’ve been discussing firearms issues quite a bit lately.

I also have wondered if perhaps the brain has evolved the ability to create little scenarios about potentially hazardous situations as a kind of training exercise. Perhaps this is why we sometimes dream we’re being chased by a wild beast, or are in a fight, or we are falling, situations that must have been relatively common in our history. By running these simulations, we become acclimated to these desperate situations and if they should occur in real life, we aren’t caught totally off-guard and are therefore less likely to freeze or panic. Anyway, that seems reasonable.

In my dream, I am running across an empty space, a field or parking lot, in the middle of the night. A group of armed men are chasing me, and they mean to do me harm. I have my pistol with me. I make it to my office (in the dream, I work in a small business), housed in a small structure like a trailer or prefab building in the middle of an open space. It reminds me of the kind of trailer construction companies set up at a building site. I let myself in and lock the door after me, they are just a few feet behind me. Once inside, I crawl under my desk for cover. Its a spot where I have a clear shot at both of the doors into the office. Outside I can hear footsteps, men running and shouting to each other. I don’t know how many of them there are, but there must be at least 5 or 6 of them.

I settle in and wait for them to come in. Outside it has suddenly become very quiet, as if they are planning some kind of strategy to come in and get me. A long time passes and there is no sound from outside. I’m scared, but I’m ready, hyper-alert.

Suddenly there are two simultaneous crashes, one at each door. One door falls on the floor and two men rush in, the other door splinters and buckles on its hinges, but does not fail. I fire twice, at a range of about 20 feet towards the first door and the lead man crumples to the floor. The man behind him turns around and jumps back out. I quickly turn and fire two more rounds through the second door, outside I hear a man squeal in pain and more noises and shouting. I hear the sound of my spent brass rolling around on the floor and I smell the cordite. I kick myself mentally for not turning off the lights when I came in. I know the men outside are not going to go away in spite of their casualties, and now I know I have nowhere to run.

I wake up in a cold sweat.

I wish Lindy were still around so she could tell me what it all means.