watermelon

i dreamt of a family of watermelons, there were five of them. the father melon was the biggest and not as green as the rest--slightly yellow, and his name was Gomez. the mother melon was named Nona and the three children watermelons, one was named Pova and another Gerho!, yes with an exclamation mark, and the third i cannot recall.

i remember waking and keeping my eyes closed while i tried to burn those names, and their order, into my memory. it was an image of two racks of watermelons, and the second rack was an alternate duplicate of the first, and those had different names, with the exception of the mother watermelons--both were named Nona. needless to say, i could only remember, if only partially, the names of the first set of names and i doubt it would have turned out any different if i had a pen and paper next to me the moment i woke.

the watermelon family was substantively linked to a simultaneous dream, in which a father was killed by a robber, and that man's wife held me captive. and because all of this was such a sad sight; this world of a broken family was replaced by a new set from an alternate universe; this is where the second set of watermelons come in.

for reasons unknown, new Gomez was nowhere to be found; this supposedly new family was still incomplete. i neglected to question this, but somehow i was still in a captive situation. oh did i mention that all of this was happening in my house? anyway the gun that was used to subdue me in universe one was now lying unattended in universe two. it was a silver Glock-ish type which rattled like a homemade piece.

i checked the clip--it contained two rounds. i noticed the magazine was similar to one of those hand-held sweet-dispensing thingies you buy at 7-11. the bullets were also shaped like sweets--rather button cell batteries--LR44 to be exact. coincidentally, two of these are precisely what you need to power a Digimon device. i digress.

i load the clip back in and cock the slide. it is worryingly rattly, and i doubt the safety mechanism is safe at all so i point it down at all times. new Nona bursts through my room door and i point the gun at her. she has a knife and she lifts it up, whether to defend herself or attempt at matching my threat, i did not put much thought into at the time. she tells me i dont have to do this, and that my false imprisonment was not her first choice but last resort. she was trying to convince me that if it were up to her she would have let me go, but part of me could not let loose the possibility that she, or anyone for that matter, would say anything to get out of the stare of a loaded barrel. i put two in her chest. suddenly i doubt her no more, but it is too late.

i was free. but then i realised it wasnt what i really wanted anyway--to be free. now i had neither father nor mother. no Gomez, no Nona. and i look down and i see two racks of watermelons, and their names appear and i know i am far too rational at this point to remain in this dream; i start to drift into consciousness and i try in vain to record their names. i know i am awake now but i keep my eyes closed to preserve the image.

Gomez, Nona, Pova, Gerho!, nine names and i only remember four. at this point i am quite certain the other five did not even appear for me to remember; but that is one of the things that will never be proven.