Archive for the ‘crime’ Category

Return to college

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In this dream, I had been banned from every setting foot at my former university. But I made my return 12 years later. Actually, I was alone and just wandering around. I wasn’t trying to get noticed. I think I was on campus out of necessity (like looking for something).

Anyway, the setting wasn’t like any real campus- I saw lush gardens, department stores, convention halls, Asian nail spas, and lots of restaurants.

As I was roaming I kinda felt like an outcast or a man without a country or a man out of his time. I saw all the students involved in their own realities- class schedules, jobs, activities…

I followed a few around, I saw my childhood friend/rival Jared K all grown up, so I followed him and his friend. They didn’t seem surprised and let me tag along for a while. I was walking behind buildings alone and made my own trail. When I came back into my loop, I saw two doctors put a sign on a small outside table as they were eating lunch; it said: “Surgeons Only”.

I avoided them since they were authority figures. Jared and his buddy, however, actually went over and chatted.

I was still outside, so I walked in the giant mall. I saw an Asian nail and hair spa on my way in. I barely made eye contact. Once inside the mall, I saw Toys R Us. I got excited, and was looking for video games even though I knew I didn’t have the money to buy anything. In a sense, I even felt guilty just for wanting to look. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation.

But I didn’t see any video games. Instead I saw the new toy trends. You know that feeling? You have no idea when these new toys became popular, and you have no idea why kids buy them. In this case, the shelves were packed with Advanced Dungeons & Dragons 2nd Edition boxes: “Make your own AD&D videos”.

The store was sooo vast, just the campus: high, high ceilings with an untold number of shelves.

I left and found my way to a very bust outdoor cafe; it was not lunch time. I saw Fabien- a Haitian woman I went to college with. She was nice, but she told me Ana B. (from high school) was being abused as a waitress at the cafe. I told her I would try to do something to save her. We were using a wireless laptop or something. Mrs. Bush, my old Kindergarten teacher (she must be dead by now) was cleaning the tables; she had sneakers on, something she would never have worn. I can’t remember the details of what Fabien’s plan was, but I knew it wasn’t working since I was powerless as an outsider.

I eventually wandered off and went into a hallway with windows. I entered the museum. As with many museums there was construction. I felt pretty scared to be in this museum since the artifacts seemed expensive. I didn’t want any trouble with me accidentally colliding with one.

There were student workers there, and they asked me for my ID. I was scared but someone still have my old college card, which miraculously worked. [I think I used my dream altering powers to make it work.]

After walking around the museum, I exited and came across a giant cafeteria/conventional hall, similar to the Orlando Convention that Tony Vahl and I went to years ago. As soon as I walked in, the girl behind a cafe counter said, “Hi, sir what can I get you?” Then a male waiter rushed towards me and said, “We have a hamburger special today.” I felt as if the whole museum thing was a setup and that they were pressuring me to buy their food. (Similar to walking out of a Disney ride and being led right into the merchandising area.)

I replied, “Uhmmm…no, I just passing through”, but they cursed me, “I hate when guys f$@#% do that $hit.”

I recalled that was the 2nd time a college worked cursed me out today (I can’t currently recall when the 1st time was). I said to myself that I would blog a review about this university’s so-called good service.

Finally- here comes the dream climax.

Small open space area of eating. I sat alone in a table by the wall, window, and door in the corner- one of those diner tables that wobble. I was alone in my thoughts. Was I lost? What was I doing here? I have no friends or family here.

Three or four Muslim men sat at the open chairs. I’ve seen more of that in New York- strangers would sit at open chairs right next to you. I always thought that was weird when I was a kid, if not awkward. I tried to avoid eye contact, and they were talking amongst themselves. However, one started to speak to me, so I was polite and I was sometimes included in their discussions but still never felt part of the conversation.

One had a question about the baseball team of that city, and I answered him. I was proud of myself that I knew their score from last night, but I realized I said something that offended them or scared them, you know a faux pas. Then it hit me. I somehow revealed my identify to them. The secret is out. I was only inches from leaving the campus (the door was right there) but I blew it. These Muslims know who I am. I have a beard now, but I saw them studying my face- hard. Three of them excused themselves to use the rest room, but they took their bags. It was over. They will tell the MEDIA or the police or the college. I will get arrested for violating the rule. I will have to pay money.

I got up and left once I realized they would not be back. I walked out of the door clinging to a false hope they didn’t recognize me. The Muslim that remained ran after me. “Hey, what happened?” he asked. I told him my story. He didn’t believe me so I told him to use Google to find out. I tried to write the keywords down on my receipt, but my handwriting was so bad or I didn’t want him to get my debit card number. I felt I was wasting my time anyway, as he knew who I was, and I didn’t have to prove it.

So that’s that. I walked away like Bill Bixby, knowing that I would get into trouble for returning to campus.

Getting shot at in Hialeah

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I went to Danny’s house after work…I had been playing OOTPX, and we were discussing the 1996 Yankees and Andy Pettitte. I was discussing how great Andy did in his rookie year in 1996. However, when I got to his place in Miami, he had too many family members there, and I felt uncomfortable because he was pretty much out of sight, and taking care of family duties for his wife and daughters (and their friends and cousins).

I wanted to go home, and didn’t have my car, so I had to figure out the buses. I was walking in people’s backyards, and there was a lot of traffic even in the residential side-streets in Hialeah. I felt exposed.

I pressed F2 to see which bus route would get me back to Broward- heck, I didn’t care what part of Broward, just get me to close to home, and I’ll walk it.

I couldn’t remember if it was the 25 or the 35 bus.

Then I remembered something very important: Andy Pettitte’s year was 1995, not 1996. So I hustled back to Danny’s place. The large crowd kinda was thin now, and he was in a bathrobe, and his body was covered in thick hair. His mustache was drooping, and he looked like Saddam Hussein after Saddam was captured. So I told him about the 1995/1996 issue, and confirmed where I have to catch my bus.

As the sun was beginning to set, there were a lot of hoodlums roaming the streets. I was avoiding gun shots. They were shooting at me, shooting at each other, and the streets were populated by female prostitutes, thieves, and transsexuals; it was total anarchy.

I tried sitting at a bus stop, and pressed F3 to bring up a map, but I was getting nervous, and strange women started to talk to me. I made a quick webcam video of myself talking to one, with Mexican music. My wife thought it was funny, although I suspected she was being polite. Heck, she wasn’t even there, but she saw it somehow.

So I got up and tried “walking it”. More gang members shot at me, and I was walking near one of those generic man-made canals here in Florida. I wanted to jump in, but was too afraid. I ran onto a small highway (actually it looked like near Hiatus and Commercial near the expressway) and saw a bus stopping, but when I got there it kept going. So I ran to catch it. Was it even the right one? I’m lost.

Then I woke up to THUNDER.

Rebirth, Love, Retcon, Secret of the Universe

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I was in kindergarten, aged 5 or 6. The catch: I had my mind and intelligence from today. I had realized I had died was reborn and living my life over again. Mrs. Betty Bush was my teacher, and she asked a question to the class. Hands went up, and a classmate had issues answering it, but of course, I knew the answer: not only did I have my 2009 intelligence, but I also had the benefit of remembering this day. I fantasized at how well I would do in school the second time.

Then I fantasized about changing my life for the better. In this dream, I had committed a serious crime in 1996, so I told myself I would avoid it to prevent the financial strain, lack of degree (I had got kicked out of college in this dream), more money in the bank, better security, and a better job.

Then it hit me.

And I cried.

Any change- no matter how slight, would jeopardize the events leading up to the exact day that I first met my wife, whom I love unconditionally. She is innocent, uncorrupted by the filth and dark world we live in, and she accepts all of my flaws, but still retains her own independent personality separate from my own. If I tried to tamper with the timeline, I would lose her.

And I felt a deep loss.

I realized I had to replay my life and follow the script to the tee, and just react normally as I did in my first time through- complete with my irrational decisions and skewed feelings from my teenage years.

In my mind, sitting in that Brooklyn, NY classroom, I stepped through all the possible scenarios: there was no way for me to wait until late 2005 to meet my wife again if I didn’t commit my crime in 1996. Too many things would have changed, with NO guarantee that things would have ended up better. Many times people make the fatal conclusion- if something happened differently, things would automatically turn out better. But I knew better.

I fast forwarded my life to 1996 to the now-famous scene of the crime I had committed (in the dream). Watching myself do it, I saw a smile as I committed the act. And now here is the retcon (retroactive continuity of history)- I smiled because I knew I would be with my wife in the future.

So I always knew. I made a pact with myself after rebirth to do it all again to be with my soul mate, someone who I love deeply. And I had no regrets.

In the dream, my wife shook me because she heard me crying. We were sleeping in my childhood bed in Brooklyn. She felt the tears on my face, and held me. I told her everything was okay- I didn’t want to let her in on the details of the sacrifice or that I almost experienced a timeline where I chose my materialistic selfishness over true love, so I tried to hide my crying, but I couldn’t.

Still in the dream sequence, (a dream within a dream) I lie in my bed in Brooklyn at night with my wife by my side, salt tears on my cheeks, and the secret of the universe hit me: similar to me controlling my own dreams, I also controlled all of the events in my life, similar to Dr. Manhattan’s perspective of the time-line. In the dream I rationalized that I made a deal before rebirth where I accepted that nothing could be changed, and that the memories of my entire life eventually got buried, to make it easier for me to function day-to-day, and to retain my emotions and appreciation for people, events, and the moment.

Still within the dream, I flashbacked to the little boy in kindergarten (me), and realized that I was #1 in my elementary classes in real life. So I came back to full circle- another cool retcon showing I was always in control.

DailySkew PSA: Greek Ship with Filipino Crew Hijacked by Somali Pirates (My brother-in-law)

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The following is a blog post from Damian Hospital:


Jolan Besana, my sister-in-law’s husband, is one of the members of the MT Centauri, a Greece-owned cargo ship. Somalian pirates armed with rocket launchers took over the ship, that has a crew of 25 or 26 Filipinos. This happened off the southern coast of Somalia. The cargo is carrying 17,000 tons of salt, and the crew and ship is being held for ransom, with the threat of death.

The pirates hijacked the ship on Wednesday night. My wife’s sister no longer has any more tears left.

The Gulf of Aden- which connects the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean- was the only route the MT Centauri could have made to get back home, and it is one of the world’s busiest waterways (off Mogadishu). The ship had been en route to Kenya to unload the salt.

Piracy continues to be a world wide problem, and the United Nations needs to be more involved to patrol certain waters, especially off Africa’s coast.

Negotiations are taking place between the terrorists and the Greece owned shipping company. International maritime authorities are also involved. The Philippines, which can’t legally give into the demands, have been trying to ban Filipino seamen to work near African coasts. In other words, it’s up to private firms to raise money to get the sailors back. A German firm recently gave $1 million dollars for the release of only 8 sailors.

Somalia has said that the seafarers remain unharmed. Around 80 Filipinos are still being held hostage in Somalia from previous kidnappings.

I happen to know that Jolan always gave food and money to African workers who helped him unload cargo in previous trips, and that he truly has a great and generous heart. He is a sailor because it is the only way he can support his family, as he had great electronic and mechanical skills that makes him a valuable crew member.

I am asking for your prayers for his safe recovery home, as he has 3 children in General Santos City in the Philippines, Jola, Jericho, and Julian. Today is Jolan’s birthday, and it’s heartbreaking a good man is being held captive.

Damian Hospital and Jolan Besana’s first encounter in Feb. 2006