Musings of a Punk Rock Father

My dad is very much alive.  But I dreamt that he hung, dead, from our coat rack many times.  His body held no surprises; it always hung in the same spot, impotent, unable to touch me.  One night, the nightmare just stopped, but that visual often haunts me.  I had not recounted the nightmare to anyone until a few days ago.  In fact, I couldn't even describe the nightmare in full, because the details are so bizarre and disturbing.

As I face the image of my father hanging from the coat rack, I face my fears.  I attempt to discover a link between my nightmare and reality.  I think about the times that I have been impotent to protect myself.  If I cannot control my own safety, how can I control the safety of others?  I pray, I must pray, that I have the strength when a situation demands that I take action.  Even though I hope to be counted on, I fear that I will be unable.  My life shows a startling pattern.  In times of extreme fright, I shut down, unable to move.  I would be killed in a chainsaw massacre, lacking the ability even to run to the top floor of an abandoned house, where no exit exists.  I would stand and stare at the body of my father, hanging lifelessly from our coat rack, with no power to turn away.  I would be unabl to defend my house against a deranged killer.

I would not be able to save you if you were in danger.

The End