I killed my sister last night. It wasn't planned, but I knew eventually it was going to happen. She asked me to meet her somewhere for something. It was strange since we have had no contact since my mother died 13 years ago. I showed up and we met basically at the end of an alley. I am flanked by two buildings and only one way out . . . Fuck me. As soon as she sees me she makes a hand motion and two of her daughters, my nieces, come out of nowhere. My sister begins to berate me. I feel really small. I am wont to retreat; to slink back with my esteem and not berate myself for coming here in the first place. I look behind me. I'm fucked. My nieces begin to pummel me of course. I am a tiny person. I can only defend myself to a certain degree since I am outweighed and outnumbered. I am on the ground thinking about what I have on me and realize I have pepper spray. They are enjoying this too much. They are giving me way too much time on the ground to think. I rise to my feet and spray the idiot closest to me in the eyes. I actually thought for a second if she had asthma and I sprayed her again. She goes backwards blindly as I spray her sister. At this point it is just me and my big sister. I throw the can of pepper spray to the ground and I pounce on her. I straddle her and I pound her head into the ground. I pound and I pound and I don't remember if I am saying anything. Am I explaining to her what I am about to do? Am I grunting? All I know is that I am slamming her head into the ground and I can't stop. But I do. There is no more head to pulverize. I stop. I stand up and fall to my knees shaking. I am crying an uncontrollable cry. I am not crying because I killed her. I am crying because of how it feels to kill someone with your bare hands. That out of body, auto-pilot feeling that you are not yourself. I am crying because I was so full of hatred for my sister. This hatred was born of hatred. This hatred was born of abuse and I burned all of that hatred out of my body with every pound of her head on the ground. Every sound and splatter brought relief. It is finally over.
When I woke up I was shaking. And I needed a hug. The thing that people don't realize about lucid dreaming is it isn't a dream for me until I wake up. When I wake up, I am tired from all of the running and falling and slamming of heads into the ground as it were. This morning my arms were tired and my eyes hurt. It is scary as well. I am not only a lucid dreamer, but I can control my dreams. I could have easily gotten out of the dream once I realized it was an ambush. Sometimes I'll do this with myself. I want to see what my brain will come up with as if I am learning more about myself. I knew I would kill my sister. It was the only way out of that situation. But I guess what I expected out of the dream was not the actual feeling of killing someone with my bare hands. Whatever it is I expected, I did not get. Lucid dreaming is a curse and nothing to be envied. Look at me. I'm killing my sister and exhausted all day. It's not fun kids.
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