The Bad Dream

The Bad Dream

It seemed to be just a normal day.  The drive home from work was typical,
with the usual traffic jams and wrecks.  We needed a few essentials at home
so I decided to stop at the local mini-market.  I pulled to the curb across
the street and gathered my purse and knife.  Just before leaving the car I
noticed my daughter talking to an older man at the front entrance, attempting
to hand him some money.  Now I'm not a nosey mother but I was curious as to
what was going on.  I decided to wait and see what transpired.

The man shook his head at my daughter, and then entered the store.  I noticed
she looked rather upset until a woman approached the store.  My daughter
confronted the woman and appeared to be rejected once more.  My mind began to
wonder what she was asking them to purchase for them, my only conclusion was
alcohol.  Better judgment told me to stop this then and there, but I would
have no real proof.  It took about 5 minutes but eventually another man,
wearing a soviet military uniform, approached the entrance.  

Once again I watched as she attempted to complete a transaction.  This man
seemed more willing to help her out and accepted the money.  The anticipation
seemed to grow within me in an awkward way.  I almost wanted to catch her,
and I knew that wasn't normal. My view was obstructed for a moment by a
passing donkey cart, but it moved in time to see the man coming from the
store.  What I saw next was nothing less than shocking.

It was suddenly night, but I could still see them at the entrance.  The man
handed my daughter what was clearly a pack of cigarettes.  My shock of the
event was only compounded as the man flashed a badge and handcuffed my
daughter.  A small French police car then suddenly pulled up, a large gorilla
appeared and threw her in the back.  I didn't know how to respond to what
had transpired before me.  My eyes filled with tears, so I took a drink of my
vodka and began to contemplate.

I suddenly found myself in my bed, covered in sweat.  It had all been a
dream, but seemed so real.  Attempting to go back to sleep the dream stayed
on my mind.  It was preposterous with donkey carts and French police, but it
kept going through my head.  Four hours later it was no better.  I had to
prove something to myself; wondering if this was some sort of "sign".

My daughters privacy was something I held in high regard.  All of my morals
told me what I desired to do was wrong.   She would most surely get upset if
I invaded her privacy, but I needed to for peace of mind.  If my own mother
would have done such a thing I too would be pissed.  My mind wrestled with
this dilemma for another hour, but the dream persisted.  Finally I decided to
climb out of bed and do something I feared I would regret.

I tried to bring the absurdness of the dream to mind to stop me from what I
was about to do.  Searching the house, I eventually found her purse.  Taking
a deep breath (and already feeling regret), I opened it.  My eyes were closed
as I undid the clasp, but there was no turning back.  Opening my eyes I saw
two packs of cigarettes.  Most parents would take this as enough proof, but I
was on a mission.  Taking her car keys I now searched for more evidence.  My
persona had changed into something I wasn't proud of.

My daughter's car was another of her private spaced that I felt I must
invade. Looking back I should have stopped my invasion at her purse.
Reluctance seemed to have been replaced by reoccurring images from my dream.
At this point there was no hesitation as I opened her car.  It didn't take
me long to find an entire carton, plus two packs of cigarettes hidden in her
glove box and center consol.  This should have given me the evidence I
needed.

Upon entering the house I spied my daughter's school bag.  The temptation to
look overwhelmed me.  This was one invasion I was going to attempt to keep
abay.  I returned to my bed in an attempt to get a little sleep, but once
again to no avail.  This dream consumed me, as had my quest for further
proof.  With one quick decision I headed again for her school bag.

The opening of this bag might finally give me peace.  Why I had ever given in
to such a preposterous dream I will never know.  The events of my previous
intrusions should have told me what I would find here as well.  Once again I
found two packs of cigarettes.  This had brought my entire finding to 26
packs of cigarettes.  I could only assume that I would find more in her room,
if I were to continue my search.  

The donkey's, knives, Gorillas, and French police were now gone. My mind and
body were in desperate need of sleep. In reflection I looked at how I had
possibly ruined my relationship with my daughter by my actions.  I had been a
fool to give into such a ludicrous vision.  Lying in bed I knew I could now
sleep.  The prospect of my daughter not having cigarettes, and resorting to
others, was unfounded.  She would never face the consequences of my not being
a provider.  It had all just been a very bad dream.