I Embark Upon A Life Of Crime

At times I wonder why I dream what I do. Are my dreams expressions of deep-rooted psychological issues, or did I simply eat the wrong food for my evening meal? Non-the-less, now and then I wake from a dream that is strange enough that I want to journal it here. This morning's dream was one of those I deem worth jotting down.

In my dream, I was a much younger man. I cannot remember all of the particulars, and perhaps my dream, as dreams often are, was not a consistent timeline. But in the part that I do remember, I was managing a large hotel/boarding house for a criminal organization, a.k.a. the mafia!

In real life, although I was once offered a job by a "connected" fellow, I have never worked for the mafia or any other overtly criminal organization. I was a public school teacher for some years but I do not think that back in those days, the government was considered an official criminal organization.

Anyway, to resume the story, I was sitting in my room at the hotel that I was managing. There was a knock on the door, and when I answered the knock, there stood a fellow that I had known many years ago. He was clearly down on his luck, as we both had been at one time in our past. 

I invited him in and, as old acquaintances do, we began "catching up" on the missing years since last we met. I must admit that I was feeling somewhat prideful in my current position. There is something magical in the knowledge that a simple nod of my head was sufficient to cause the removal (permanent) of anyone who had the temerity to offend my sensibilities or question my judgment. It is easy to understand why powerful criminals and politicians develop an attitude that is beyond what most of us can imagine.

After we had chatted for a while, I decided to treat my old acquaintance to a meal in the dining room of "my" hotel. The elevator from my suite was crowded, but everyone moved aside when they saw me. Outside of the dining room was a very long line waiting to go inside for their meal. With a great deal of bonhomie, I led my old acquaintance past Mafiosi and other criminals. Stopping here and there to tell a Senator to straighten his tie or to congratulate and give a pat on the back to a particularly efficient hitman, we proceeded to my table of honor.

I woke just as the waiter was taking our order for a meal that would have been the most scrumptious imaginable. I lay in bed for a minute or two savoring the wonderful feeling of power and control that master criminals must surely feel. Then reality struck. I climbed from my bed, and over a cup of black coffee jotted these words while the fast-fading memory was still fresh. Now, the memory of my dream has all but faded and I am left wondering what would have happened if I had taken the illegal job that I had once been offered. But that is a story for another time!