I just had a dream I held a dying man in my arms.
It started, we were in an arcade. Many of my friends an I loved the games in this three story arcade. We often wondered why they’d closed the two basement levels – five stories of games would be great. The old guy who worked there, Bade, would often chase us away when we hung around the stairs. We’d never been nice to Bade, and he’d never been nice to us – At one point in the past, he’d shot me in the arm for trespassing.
We finally saw he was distracted, so we bolted down the stairs. We had stolen a key, too, so we could get through all the doors. We were all gamers, this was a game to us.
Bade was an old man, so we knew he couldn’t keep up with us, but he shouldn’t have taken this long to chase us out . . .
We kept looking around, there were curling rinks, and bowling lanes down here. We looked in several lockers, and we found giant Monopoly pieces for the big monopoly board.
It started to worry me that Bade hadn’t found us yet. I walked back to look, my friends shouted at me, “You wanna get shot again?!” but I kept going.
And I found him. He was lying on the ground next to the seats by the bowling lanes. He was moving only slightly.
I asked him if we was okay, and he said, “No . .. no, I can’t feel my left side.” (though now, awake, I see it was his right side)
I straighten him out and put my jacket under his head to give him some support and make him more comfortable, and I notice his head is bloody.
I shouted at my friends and told them to get help, to bring me their coats and such. I held Bade’s head in my lap, and I was becoming covered in blood.
Most of the kids just stared, no one ran. A few gave me things to soak up the blood and apply pressure.
The other kids were happy that Bade was dying. They had finally won the game.
Bade said to me, weakly, and all other sounds seemed to die out, “Why are you helping me? After all I’ve done, I’ve even shot you.”
I replied, “This is a game I do not want to win,” and then I turned to my “friends” and shouted, “SOMEONE GOT GET HELP!”
I guess the distress in my voice finally convinced them of something – some were afraid of me, a couple ran. I turned back to Bade, and he was whispering things now, just mutterings.
I spoke to him, “I don’t want you to die, Bade. I don’t want my friends to have this hanging on their heads – when a man died, they stood and laughed. I don’t want my friends that evil . . .”
A priest/healer came some time later to look him over, but it was beyond his control. Bade had had a stroke, and injured himself too greatly in the fall. Nothing could be done from the start, but I had tried anyway.
Bade was still in my arms then, he started muttering words in song. His eyes closed, his arms went limp at his side . . . and a small green orb flew from his chest and started glowing as it was sent off.
I reached for it, and my friends thought I was crazy for reaching at nothing.