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1/25/2018 7:38:29 AM
Posted: 12/13/2003 3:21:08 AM EST
I haven't had one of these in a while, but I have a habit of having dreams where the S is about to HTF, and my damn gun won't work. Maybe this time it was because I fell asleep downstairs on the couch with no gun handy. In this case, I'm in a somewhat dark house, and I hear something outside. I'm on the computer, and I get sent a message detailing what would happen if somebody is going to break into my house. One of the things is busting any outside lighting, seconds later my porch light goes out. My heart start beating, I hear something at the door. I grab my trusty 12 gauge and pump the action, and it doesn't feel right. I pump it again and no shell is ejected. Wtf?? I *know* there is ammo in it, but it will not load out of the tube. I try again, and toss the shotgun to the floor. I grab my AR15, and pull the charging handle. It double feeds. I pull the handle again a couple times shaking the gun as it's held 90 degrees to the side. It triple feeds, double feeds again and then finally chambers a round, I think. I now notice the upper and lower appear to be held together with screws, that are waaaaay loose and the two halves of the gun are moving all over the place. I look at the clock, it's 5:00 AM (yes in my dream). A couple dim lights in the house now go out. I stare at the gun wondering if it's going to work. I sense somebody in the hallway. I WAKE UP. I think I hear faintly my son saying "Daddy!" upstairs. I go upstairs and he is sleeping soundly, but with my wife in our bed. He must have had a bad dream tonight. I grab my SIG from the gunsafe beside the bed (yes, in a gunsafe, because of the kid... the 12 gauge is sitting under the bed however, but with the chamger empty again because of the kid. This is why I had to chamber a round in my dream) and come downstairs to collect my thoughts. I turned on the TV and the TiVO menu says the time is now 5:04 AM. Holy freaking crap man.
Link Posted: 12/13/2003 3:29:32 AM EST
It is your inner puppy telling you it's time to get to the range and practice. The bad dreams will go away.
Link Posted: 12/13/2003 3:44:06 AM EST
Yeah, you definately need some range time. So do I,... now.
Link Posted: 12/13/2003 3:49:26 AM EST
How do you explain how I knew what time it was in my dream...
Link Posted: 12/13/2003 4:07:29 AM EST
I rarely have dreams with/about guns. But I had one last night. I was walking around a drive-in restaurant in my home town and ran into a couple of snakes. A king and a coral, as I recall. Someone was picking them up with a stick and waving them about in front of me, but far enough away I wouldn't get bit. But when I got on the other side of the restaurant, in the grass (or rather, on the lawn) I ran into a black cobra. Now this damn snake kept trying to climb up my back so it could spit in my face. A bit un-nerving. Finally, I was able to brush it off with a stick and knock it to the ground. I spun around and drew my pistol as the snake raised up into a cobra's attack poise, hood flared. I fired. Hit the snake just below the head. Kept firing moving vertically down the body. 7 shots in all. Laid that damned snake over backwards. Quite dead. Removed the magazine. Empty. Slide closed, so there's one in the chamber. Reach in my pocket for more ammo. 2 rounds. Load mag and reinsert. Now if that isn't weird enough, what pistol was I carrying? A Walther P-38! And I'm shooting FMJ's to boot. Nice pistol, but not very practical for carry purposes. As I'm standing over the dead snake my dad comes up and askes, "What would your mom think?" Now we come awake and I think about the question. Mom would have approved of my actions had she been there. But she never believed there was a reason to carry a gun in town, let alone a reason to discharge one in town. Mom was not anti-gun at all. She grew up in the late '30's and '40's on a rural Nebr. farm. Her dad loved hunting and did quite a bit. I grew up in a town of about 7500 during the '60's and '70's about 45 miles from her hometown. Still quite a peaceful time. It was her dad that got my dad into hunting pheasants. This sparked my intrest in guns. And mom didn't mind. Even when I brought home my SP1 in 1979. But she wouldn't let me through my shotgun in my car so I could go from school straight to hunting. Always had to come home to get the shotgun. Guess she wanted me to check in, too. [;)] No, she wasn't anti-, just practical. There's no reason to carry one around in town. In that time and place, she was probably more right then wrong. And now I have no idea where this post started or where it ended up. [:D] I guess I need to go shooting too. [):)]
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