The Duel

I don’t remember how it started. One second my brother, father and I were having dinner at a restaurant, a little barbeque-style place with wooden picnic tables and benches, posters on the tables and walls, and wooden planks on the floor. The next second, my brother and I were standing, pointing our fingers in a gun fashion to three guys in front of us. My brother and the two other guys started arguing about what type of guns they had. I simply said, “A gun that kills just the same as yours.” Before we knew it we had a duel scheduled.

We got home–a home I then recognized but don’t now–and started taking care of regular daily chores, waiting for the time of the duel. It was getting late in the day, and the guys still hadn’t shown up. I went to make myself a liquid meal of some sort, something made out of chocolate, remembering that I had to be careful about my diet (although I didn’t know why: part of me knew about my stomach issues, the other part thought it was about the wait). Then I thought at the absurdity of being about to die and worrying about that. Was this my last meal?

I remembered that before this all started, the water in the house was black, as if it had tapped into sewage or something. While waiting for the hicks, the same occurred: the water turned black.

I hoped that because it was getting late the duel wouldn’t happen, that everyone realized they wanted to live more than they wanted to be right. It was late, about 6 pm. If the duel was going to happen, it should happen now.

That’s when the phone rang. It was the furniture company, scheduling the delivery. I had woken up. This is when I realized I had been dreaming. Or had I been looking into another life, a me from an alternate universe?