Bistek Dream

When I woke up in my bed this morning I was not in my apartment but in someone elses apartment in east side San Jose. It was sometime in the early mid 90s and the apartment was a mess with clothes and trash scattered everywhere and new kids on the block magazine posters collaged all over the wall. There were two beds across from each other both same in size, and on the bed across from mine I saw a girl with her face down in her pillow with a younger child playing on top of her. When i woke up in that bedroom things were very hazy as I was just coming out of a nightmare or another dream of some sort. Things were patchy in my mind at that moment. All I could make out was being in another small unfamilar apartment snooping around a small room when i step out into the hall a crazy man starts swinging his own thick gold dookie chain around his head threating me, perhaps wondering why I am probably tresspassing. I could not make out this mans face or remember anything about the way he looked except his shaggy brown and unstylish haircut that made him seem like some sort of sexual predator. It is at that moment that i look at my hands and I have a bicycle chain of my own that I begin wildly swinging around the apartment wrecking things hanging about on the walls enticing him to make his move. Then after a few fake head jerks and half ass swipes he takes at me I call his bluff and rush him and end somehow manage to squeeze the life out of him by choking him with my bike chain leaving greasy spotted lines across his neck. Shocked at my own strengh, I found myself relieved yet I did not know what to do with the body so.... for some reason I put him on the balcony outside and pose him as if he fell asleep enjoying the summers day and put a unsuspicious fisherman hat to shade his dead face. People passing by call out to greet him as I walk away on the streets below, paranoid. And then I wake up. In this room with this girl with her head in the pillow face down and a child playing with toys next to her. She turns to me and mutters something muffled but I cant make out anything yet I nod like I understand like I tend to always do. I could not tell how old she was, maybe 17 or 18, she had crisp even bangs and was dressed like a chola in tight skinny acid washed tapered black jeans - I could not tell but she looked like one of those asian gangters girl with penciled in eyebrows. I assumed the child was hers and passing judgement on her I assumed she must be some type of hood rat to some local gang. I was of course weirded out that this wasnt my room or my bed or I just had this crazy dream of murdering some faceless man and posing him on his own porch like weekend at bernies. Thats when my hand felt a hardbound book on the bed. It was one of those black sketch books, she turned her head to say 'go ahead, you can look at it, its mine.' So I begin to turn the pages of her book and look at all her sketches. Doodles of cholas and demons with lowrider cars, plenty of random critters with evil smiles & sketches of girls that looked lost. and i looked up at her and looked back at the book and then looked back at the child and then started to actually wake up, in my own bed, alone, 5 minutes before my alarm went off at 8.