There are two cowboys in the desert. The older man is teaching the younger one to shoot, goading and slapping him, making him fire wildly into the sky, making him fire along the line of his bare arm so that the powder flash burns his skin and the bullet passes through his hand. Finally the younger man is driven past his natural deference, and turns around with a murderous, surrendered calm and levels the pistol at him.

The older man kneels and bows his head, mumbling "good boy, good boy..." He doesn't know if he's going to die or not, but he sees the iron will and the despair in the boy's eyes, the acceptance of manhood. He wasn't teaching him how to shoot, he was teaching him how to be a man, and the lesson is over.

The boy realizes what's happened, and lowers the gun. The old man asks him how he found his answer, and the boy shows his the wounded stump of his hand, where the old man had made him shoot. The boy says "This is my answer - what use is it?", brandishing his bloody hand angrily. The older man says "It's your answer, it's no use to anyone else, but it's worth everything to you."

They look up into the sky and the boy sees the madness of measurement, dividing the sky into fixed disks to be turned and manipulated, as if in the measurement of astronomical distance and stellar properties the measurers might escape the confines of the universe and its laws of mortality and fixity like Kim in The Place of Dead Roads, shooting a hole in the sky and watching it all come crashing down. The boy knows now that the bullet isn't important, just the will that would drive it and the understanding that would hold it back.

Yes, I dreamed this, it isn't made up

I had taken a job at a large movie company. It was an intern type position. There were a lot of black female employees and nice architecture. a lot of lavish rooms. the mob was also involved. The first part I remeber is getting into some sort of confrontation at a big team building/party type event in this gorgeous, 30 foot high ceilings and large glass windows, penthouse area. People were all chatting and the next thing I know two of the tougher ladies are arguing with me because I had made some sort of slang faux paux and said "somebody liked to pony" or something along those lines. I was tense but I think I out witted one of them and she walked away to join the larger group. as I walked over someone said to me it was probably a bad idea to have gotten in that confrontation. the party was fun and all money.

the mob element

these guys from the mob always came by the office, everyone knew them and the secretary pool of terrifying ghetto ladies shut up when they came by, they would whisk me away to do stuff with them. One thing they kept trying to get me to do was lower cars that had been lifted up by one of those things that lift cars up in car repair places. there were always really sketchy people walking around while they expected me to lower these cars, which sometimes were dune buggies and other time were junky 80s oldsmobiles. one time some part of the control box to lower the car had been broken and I was inside this big old house (the car was waiting for me to figure out how to get it down out back) and I was talking with the mob guy that was like the leader of the group, whose name I didn't know and was scared to ask, and generally scared to talk to at all but now we were talking (which meant he was scaring me and making me feel bad) about the car issue. then he disappeared and I wandered around this house. It had a small kitchen and a tough white women was doing something around the gas oven but it wasn't cooking. she told me the guy I was waiting for would be back soon and to hold tight. So I went outside of the kitchen to the hall way and sat on one of those seventies chairs with the wire frame body and a pillow to sit on that is really more of a pad then a a pillow.

returning to the office and the gradually decline of my bike

I would be randomly flopping back and forth between the office and the mob errands. My bike that I had locked up outside was getting more and more trashed. Somebody was fucking it up on purpose. On the second attack they had removed the back tire entirely, this was the only damage from that attack and I never considered the gear system, wether that was broken too. whenever I was in the office I didnt know what to do, I had always been taken to lower cars and had yet to do anything in the office. I was thinking that when an older, non television ghetto image, very large black woman who I recognize as some sort of authoritys starts talking to me. She is nice and not being an intimadating jerk like everybody else in the dream. She asks me what I did before this. I tell her I worked for three years fixing computers and had great typing skills. I went as far as saying I was super with microsoft excel, which I have never used other then to look at other peoples spread sheets. the next thing we are looking at is my bike. This time somebody had like shortened the top bar so the bike looked really awkward and it still had no back tire. she looked at that and then said hold on a second and came back with a check for 144$ and there was something intresting written in the memo section that I can't recall. Somebody made a snarky comment to her about wasting the money on the intern. she was the only nice element in the dream.

the dune buggy element

sometimes we would have a lowered dune buggy out in the desert and the mob guys (who were not suit mob guys but were all like 30 years old in these worn in orangy red leather jackets and had longish hair. troops) and would been cranking around on it. they didn't really know how to work these cars and would be flying around and rolling them and going off dunes. on one of the panels of a dune buggy I got to look at up close it a had big knob that was used to select different settings but none of the settings made sense. I wish I could remeber the names of them.

Windows 98 password

Once in the office I logged into a computer and I entered a password. for some reason right after I did it I sat down on one of their super nice couches and started to thumb through something. (Everything in the movie offices was nice nice and the flow of the halls and rooms into each other was perfect, lots of half circles. lots of blue and silvery-grey) so I was sitting on the couch and this black MTV ghetto lady was like "yo, whats the password I need to get into the computer" and I was like " I dont know, but I can fix it" and then she was like "If you dont know I can fix it" but I brushed her aside and had a look. It was windows 98 but it didnt look like windows 98. for one thing at the part were you would normally be prompted for a user name and password there was three pictures of black guys that looked like they were out of some sort of oakland mad max. they had names under their pictures and I assumed this was the user selection area. somehow I got passed this and into the desktop proper. I was talking about all I had to do was erase the .pwl file for my name so I did a search and found no pwl. The lady who had asked me was getting irrate and kissing her teeth and I remebered how she said she knew how to fix it but for some reason I had brushed her off. Somehow I got to a normal user name and password screen and entered my name and guessed the password was "money", which it was.

other random things.other dreams.

matthew was back from thailand but I never focused on him. I went to a couple black tie executive parties with my dad. everyone was really happy and drunk adn celebrating. we ate delicious food and this one guy kept getting me to take shots of something that was tasty. one shot I licked out the remaing alchol that had stuck to the sides and slammed the shot glass down upside down style like a pro and he was like "nice job" and patted me on the back.

one of the parties was outside in the main intersection near were I grew up and I was with the nice give me lots of shots guy and this beautifull, though never fully focused on woman, was watching us have fun. when I realized she impressed by me I took off on this sort of luge/scooter. I was trying to make a right turn, so I was swinging a bit left and then I realized I wouldnt make it so I took a left instead, which felt kind of stupid.

I was walking down the street and I came to this cake that was on a table. It was this big black chocalate cake and it was in perfect shape except one piece had been cut out and was on the ground. it was just sitting there and I assumed it was for the party but the people had forgoten about it and probably werent missing it anyway.

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