I Murdered Someone Last Night

Last night I murdered a man at a gas station with a shot-gun.  My friend told me to leave the gun like in the Godfather.  Actually he wasn’t a friend.  He happened to be a childhood acquaintance.   At one time I thought was my best friend.  He was always criticizing me in the form of ball busting.  He always purposefully misunderstood what people said and rephrased it as something risqué.  For example, I might say, “My heart is beating.”  To which he would reply, “Your fart is beating?”  Later on I found out he was talking shit about me behind my back.  This was in middle school some time.  I remember working up the nerve to buy a ticket for a dance for the first time.  They were selling tickets from a table on the stage in the lunch room.  I had never bought a ticket to a dance before because I felt like people would make fun of me.   I was a nerd trying to do something the cool people did.  It was funny in the way a chimp riding a bike is funny.  I was nervous and standing in line but people were cutting in front of me.  Someone told me later that he was laughing at me and calling me a loser.  I felt ashamed and betrayed when I heard that but it sort of opened my eyes that this guy was not really my friend.  I sort of drifted away from him after that.

After I shot the guy I went back to my childhood home.  I remember lying in my childhood bed afraid that I would get arrested for killing the guy.  I prayed to God that no one would ever find out.  Then I thought there must have been a security camera at the gas station.  I felt panic and dread.  I lay there waiting to hear sirens approaching the house and anticipating that it would happen any second.  I prayed some more asking God that I be let off the hook some how.  I thought about what prison would be like.  I did not really have a reason for killing the guy.  I just did it.  Maybe I was trying to impress that childhood friend of mine.

As the dawn light filtered in through the window, I realized I had been dreaming.  I had never shot anyone.  Instead of lying in my childhood bed I was lying on the floor of my new apartment in North Carolina.  I did not have a mattress yet.

Even though this was a dream I actually felt like God answered my prayer.  It was as if the me in the dream was a different, yet equally real, person living in a different reality.  God transported that me into this reality where the crime had never taken place.  By doing this God had wiped the slate clean.  It felt liberating.  This is what forgiveness feels like.

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