CHAPTER 36
(Analyzing The “Indemnify” Dream)
September 21, 2018
I knew I had finally reached the end of my rope. I was certain God couldn't save me and I was too traumatized to go to church. I was certain my home had been invaded 8/25/2018, certain my car had been invaded 8/19/2018 at the Brandywine Hospital. And to top it all off? There were things missing from my storage that I needed for a book about trucking I would write one day. I was convinced God couldn't help me. I didn't want to go to church because I feared I would create scenes and outbursts that would confuse the congregation. I knew if I went I would stand up in the crowd and shout a loud prayer before the congregation.
"Pastor! Pastor! I have not cheated! I have not stolen for I am a Saint your Fatherness but this crowd has sinned and broken the law! Please allow me to pray for YOUR sins and these sinners in this congregation!"
Even though the church a stone throw away offered a free meal once a month I had no intentions of being known. Church had become too hard for me because I felt like the only righteous and pure person in there was me. I have NEVER cheated on my UC claims but met plenty of church people that cheated all the time with improperly reporting their earnings. In fact with me it was quite the opposite. I was often entitled to more than I claimed and even after Spencer helped me an entire five years ago a girl named Erin in the UC department had to fish around for me some missing payments they had cheated me. Even our fine alleged scrupulous Federal government tried to swindle an extra hundred dollars in WMD fines for my what was once described as a "puny overblown bottle rocket" to the bird doctor. Could a gossipy place of conversation and encroachment really help a paranoid person like me get better? I chose not to take my chances. The free once a month meals were tempting but I was smart enough to know mandated conversation would ensue. "What are you up to Bob? How do you have two names Bob? What is your REAL name? Do you feel like a big shot getting to live right next to a high school full of beach bunnies that jog past your front door? Haven't you yet figured out your dog house sized abode is nothing more than a Chris Hanson booby trap and were just patiently waiting for you to start walking around that track with a bag full of candy so we can laugh at you on the next "To Catch A Predator" TV show Bob?"
I didn't want to be known in a gossipy church. I didn't want to be known by any gangs either. I liked being a ghost. I liked being the next "What About Bob". Give me a pen and paper and I'm good. But I was forgetting something very important. I still needed money to survive and I had just quit my part time job delivering pizzas. I was certain my boss had something to do with my missing sunglasses and I caught him often talking to the police. I considered that "Un-Gangsta" like and I was sure the conversation was about me. It was time to sit in my Phillies lawn chair and die staring my life away at a moving ceiling full of scotch tape. There would be no stockpile of un cashed SSI checks to leave for funeral expenses. If I wasn't worth 45 minutes of cassette tape to the UC board in 2013 then I would be a fool to believe I was worthy of a coffin yet alone a urn.
Most likely my ashes would go in a Maxwell coffee can with Tim Horton's logos wrapped around it to fool people into believing it was a name brand coffee can at least for my sorry ashy ass.
The depression was wearing in as the day slowly crept away and I soon found myself using my last remaining strength crawling just two feet away from my lawn chair over to my air mattress which now had a big bubble in it to serve as a pillow which worked out well because crunching up my t-shirts into a pillow case just wasn't working out too well and I didn't have a UC check to purchase a $7.00 pillow at the Wal-Marts. Yeah B,
they did me like that. Rob Peter To Pay Paul. It was more than just an expression. Dr. SOB robbed my Peter in 2004 and now some nut ass dude in Indy named Paul was getting paid for the money I worked for! Did they not know I was not a "Peter" but rather a Big Bad Bob?
As I wrapped myself inside of my crunchy J-J giveaway sleeping bag I found myself slowly drifting asleep into a very deep slumber. A slumber so profoundly deep that I could no longer hear myself snoring like a grizzly bear.
Bob-Bob-Big-Bad-Bob-Smiling Bob. And then. the dream.
I could not see myself in the dream. I could not see my hands. I could not see my feet. I could not even hear myself breathing. I was a ghost. I was a spectator ghost. I saw a courtroom very vacant. There were no other spectators other than me. There was only two people in the courtroom conversing with each other. I saw a judge behind a wooden post wearing a black robe. There was a woman talking to the judge in the court room but I could not see her face nor could she see mine. In fact neither the Judge nor the prosecuting woman even knew I was in the courtroom watching. I couldn't hear the conversation between the judge and the prosecutor but I was certain it was indeed a court room hearing in procedure. The hearing was about me. They didn't know I was watching them through a peephole in my cell. I had been caught for committing murder. I was confused because the hearing was about me but without me and had nothing to do with the murder I committed. The murder hadn't been proven yet and I hadn't confessed to it yet because I don't remember doing it.
The authorities have convinced me that I committed a murder but the evidence is very grainy. I know who was murdered but because I can't recall having a logical motive I'm quite certain I'm innocent and it's all yet another conspiracy against me. As I watch through the small peephole a skinny man about my age flies out of nowhere and literally stands before the judge as if he's encountered some serious newly found game changing news.
He is clad in a dark black suit and.......oh my gosh he's wearing a black steampunk hat just like mine! I can only see his backside as he races across the floor and throws himself in front of the Judge like Kramer from Seinfield like he's just arrived.
The Judge is completely alarmed by this sudden startlement.
The man clad in black waves some papers around at the judge and shouts very loud. Very, very loud with lots of excitement. I can't see the man's face in the dream only his backside but I immediately recognize his voice from five years ago. It's Spencer for sure.
"Are you going to Indemnify him? Are you going to Indemnify him!"
I wake up from my dream. My heart is beating faster than a hummingbird. My t-shirt is literally soaking in sweat. I'm confused because it's taking me a while to figure out I just had a weird dream as I only dream once a year. I prefer nightmares because I'm worried if I have a dream the Peek-A-Boos might fire a warning shot in the back of my head for having a pleasurable experience without them being able to peek into it.
My heart rate slowly but surely settles down to the speed of a grandfather clock slowing my racing thoughts so I can have my proper faculties returned to me. Everything is Ay-Okay now it was only a dream. So what. Big deal. Dreams happen.
I was willing to accept everything in the dream as a mere coincidence except I had one very, and I mean VERY substantial problem still left behind.
"Indemnify"
I had never used the word before. Not only had I never used the word before but prior to the dream I had never even heard of the word "Indemnify" before so how on God's Greene Earth could that word have infiltrated my dreams?
Where had the word "Indemnify" come from and what did that word mean?