Dreaming of handguns

The other night I dreamt I was in an office. There was a locked glass door, and if someone buzzed to get in I could push a button that would open the door.

I heard it buzz, but no one was at the door. Instead a cart that looked something like a rectangular skateboard was rolling toward the door. The cart had a box on it. This seemed odd to me.

I thought maybe I shouldn’t open the door. But whoever set the cart in motion wanted the cart in the office, and I didn’t want to disappoint that person.

So I opened the door. I took the lid off the box that was on the cart. Inside was a handgun. I knew that in the office there was another box that had several guns in it, so I picked up the handgun and put it with the other guns.

I decided it was no big deal. But then the police arrived looking for a man who just killed someone. I realized that the gun must be the murder weapon, and now my prints were on it because I touched it.

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Author: Dave DuBay

Dave is a social worker from Phoenix, Arizona. He blogs at thepaintedporch.net. He's also at twitter.com/Dave_DuBay.

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