Cranks My Tractor

It was one of those nights. I don’t know what caused it. Perhaps it was the leftover Jerk Chicken I had eaten earlier in the day, perhaps it was the movies I had been watching or may be it was something else. All I know is that it was real, or seemed real – scary real.

I went to sleep at around 1:30 AM and sometime thereafter, I went to prison. I’m unsure if it was a regular prison or prisoner of war (POW) camp. It had to be one of the two. There were no bars, but there was lots of barbed wire, fences, buildings and other male prisoners or inmates.

In the last couple of day s, I’ve watched The Shawshank Redemption, Cool Hand Luke and Conspiracy Theory. None of those seemed to fit quite right; the scenery in my dream was more like The Great Escape or Stalag 17.

The first thing I remember is walking around in a fenced in area with lots of white buildings, the dream may have even been in black and white. None of the other prisoners were trying to hurt me or make me eat eggs, so I didn’t seem to be Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) or Cool Hand Luke (Paul Newman). We (the prisoners) were just wandering around. It was too real.

I didn't have or need a copy of "Catcher in the Ry e," so Conspiracy Theory was out of the question. I knew I would miss Julia Roberts.

There were no paints or paper mache and I wasn't molding a fake head like Clint Eastwood did in Escape from Alcatraz.

I was just walking around with the other prisoners.

Then I thought about the butterfly. This could be punishment for THE BUTTERFLY. On a recent family vacation, I got a henna tattoo of a butterfly on my right bicep (so I could make it fly). It embarrassed my teenage daughters.

Papillon had a butterfly tattoo, this might be it.

No, I didn't have on red and white striped pajamas in my dream, Dustin Hoffman was not there and I wasn't eating bugs. I was not Papillon.

On the other side of the barbed wired fences, there were other people roaming around and cows. I don’t know where the cows came from and I don’t know if it was some sort of people and cow prison. It still seemed like a POW camp at this point and I was right in the middle of it.

A man on the other side (with the cows) called me over to the fence. I started walking toward the fence, but I wasscared – very scared. It was all too real.

Startled, I woke up and checked the time. It was somewhere between 3 and 4 AM. I was scared, but I was still interested in my dream and getting out of wherever I was. I went right back to sleep and landed right back at that fence again.

The fellow at the fence said “I’ve got something you can use.” I don’t remember saying any thing. The man handed me a small pair of wire cutters through the fence. I remember looking around to see if any one was looking. I slipped the wire cutters into my pocket.

There was a cow looking at me through the barbed wired fence.

Then the man gave me another pair of wire cutters or bolt cutters that were about twice the size of the first pair he gave me. Again, I looked around to see if any one was watching. I slipped the second pair into my other pocket. They wouldn’t fit, so I pulled my shirt tail out to cover them up.

I was starting to sweat. Then the fellow pulled these huge bolt cutters out of nowhere and threw them over the fence. The handles seemed to be about three feet long. I remember asking my self, “I have a 29” inseam, what am I going to do with these?”

I picked up the long bolt cutters and faced the buildings inside my prison or prison camp. I stuck the bolt cutters down the back of pants, one handle in each leg. Then I started walking “straight-legged” toward the buildings. I remember it feeling like I didn’t have knees.

A guard approached me; I knew I was done for. The guard didn’t say any thing; he just let me pass by walking straight-legged like a man on stilts. I woke up again in a cold sweat. It was around 5 AM.

While I was awake, I dreaded going back to sleep, but then again I knew I had to “go back in there” and try to escape. I had three pairs of wire/bolt cutters. Surely, I would get out.

I went back to sleep and back into my dream. I was in a chicken house inside the prison/POW camp. I was trying to hide or bury the three pairs of wire/bolt cutters. The ground was hard, I was covering the cutters (I’m tired of saying wire/bolt) with dirt, hay and every thing else that chickens produce. In the meantime, I was late for dinner and I knew I would be missed, so again panic set in.

After hiding the cutters, I started running toward the white building where the prisoners ate. They were all coming out. They were finished, I was doomed.

Then this big fellow started walking toward me. He had three Tupperware containers of leftovers (I don’t know, it was a dream). He was having trouble carry ing the three stacked containers and dropped the one on top. It hit the ground and a hamburger patty fell out. He smiled at me with his toothless grin and said, “You can have it.”

His “look” and smile scared me.

It was 7 AM, the alarm clock radio blared Rod Stewart’s “Do Y a Think I’m Sexy?”

I don’t want to think about that dream anymore.

You can find more stories by BN Heard at www.CranksMyTractor.com.