Editorial
Front Page - Friday, October 09, 2009
View from the Cheap Seats
Midnight heist
Bill James
WmJamesJr@aol.com
Last night, I robbed a bank. I did it without a gun. I did it without covering my face. My partner went in the front door and I stayed in the back and just blocked the door with my good looks. The bank looked just like a McDonald’s. Everyone handed over big wads of cash and did so without me even asking them. I ran out the door.
I did not see which way my partner ran, so I ran down a back street that reminded me of the street behind Juanita’s on Main Street Little Rock. I ran down the street as fast as I could, wishing that I was in better shape for this getaway. I thought I heard the sirens of the police, but then again I heard
nothing.
I ran by people standing in their yards, but no one seemed to really notice me. My face was still uncovered and I had no idea how I would get away with what I had done. To make matters worse, I was carrying a big bank bag that was filled with all of the loot that I had been given
at the bank.
I ran over to a construction site and hid all the money under a trash can and got rid of a the bag. I no longer had any evidence that I was involved in this big-time holdup. I remember going somewhere that I felt safe, but then I started coming into contact with law enforcement that I knew. There was a lot of talk about the robbery, but no one specifically blamed it on me.
I never saw my partner again. I am not sure who he was, but I remember that he left the bank before me. He had a huge tan duffel bag that was apparently full of cash. He left the bank, bag over his shoulder without even looking back. No one chased him either.
I had trouble remembering exactly where I had left the money. I was becoming alarmed that I would not be able to find it. I realized I may have ruined my life and had nothing to show for it.
I really don’t remember much after that, there may have been a warehouse or an airport involved somewhere, but I do not recall getting arrested or shot at. I actually got up a couple of times during the night and it seemed like the dream repeated itself in bits and pieces.
I actually don’t have bad dreams that often. Truth is, I rarely remember what I dream with any detail. This one was very vivid. I awoke before the appointed time and laid there rethinking the night’s events. Then, it hit me. It was Wednesday. My deadline for this column is actually Tuesday night, but I occasionally take advantage and stretch it to Wednesday morning.
I have several ideas peculating for columns, but none of them are ripe. I found myself staring at the clock in the kitchen and searching for some cosmic truth to channel into my weekly diatribe. Nothing seemed to present itself. Then I realized that there may be some meaning in my dream. Maybe, the dream represents the few minutes I have just stolen from you in your search for meaning in this column. Maybe the dream was nothing more than self- punishment for procrastinating.
Maybe I just want the bigger bag of money.
Ultimately, dreams are what they are. Sometimes they mean something. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they just help you pass the night. Sometimes they just give you something to talk about the next day. Sometimes, in the walk of life, we take too much time looking for meaning in everything. Sometimes, it just is. That is especially true in the CHEAP SEATS!
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