I DREAM OF GACY

Here I am again waking up I guess in some park on the north end slowly regaining my consciousness. I'm not sure but I think that the figure standing 25 yards in front of me slightly to my left is a statue of some sort. The chloroform or whatever that basterd used to sedate me has left me with clowded vision on this dark night turning my surroundings nearly pitch black. My brain is in a drug induced fog and I cannot move my limbs with any coordination, which is to say, terribly unfortunate because the son-of-a-bitch who drugged me is standing over me as I lay on the cold wet grass totaly helpless. This overgrown predator is looking at me as if he is almost concerned despite the fact he has brought about these circumstances. I've been trying to yell and get the attention of anyone that may be observing this guy pulling me up off the ground and hoisting me over his shoulder. "Come on buddy, he says, I'll take care of ya". I try to scream but it's useless because my speach is slurred. Before I know it I am standing on my feet, with rope tied around me, and I am more or less leaning backward onto a pole or whatever it is I am tied to. My hands are cuffed behind me and I could see that I am inside a house. The blinds are drawn and pizza boxes and fast food bags are stacked on top of a coffee table. SLAP! I feel the suprising sting of the back of this guys hand as he hit me across my face. Now my head is pounding and my vision that was getting better is now blurred, and I feel the left side of my face begin to swell. "What the fuck is wrong with you!", yells the lunatic who is now standing before me with a rope in his hand. Not being able to respond he leaves the room and comes back wearing clown make-up, which is smeared all over his white t-shirt. He has tied the rope around my neck and now it is restricting my breathing. Poking me in the ribs he says in a patronizing voice, "Whats your real name- Huh, this bother ya- Yeah- WELL I GOT SOMETHING GOOD FOR YOU-- I'VE GOTTA PLACE FOR YA TOO"! I notice he is starting to breath realy heavey and I can tell that he's contemplating what to do next. Then he pulls a revolver out from behind him, causing his suspenders to come partialy unfastened. Getting in my face once more he antagonizes me, "This bother ya, Huh? Does this scare ya?" As I began shaking my head he spun the cylinder and put it to my chin and asks, "Ya know what the funniest thing about clowns is?" I am speechless and can't talk anyway so I shook my head from side to side. Grinning from ear to ear he says, "Clowns can get away with murder." CLICK!

And that's when I wake up and it's been almost thirty years since I first had this dream. I was not a victim of this prick but I do have an experience to share with you that I suppose has triggered this dream for all these years. Let me tell you about the night I met this guy, his name was John.

WELCOME TO THE WINDY CITY

It was November of 1972- the wind was cold and the rain was just utterly pouring on the north end of Chicago. For those of you who are not familiar with this time period I'll tell you a little about it. President Nixon just got re-elected, the Bears were about to finish dead last for the third year in a row, and unbeknownst to the police we had a derainged serial killer stalking the streets of Chicago. At this point in my life I was a restless 27 year old army vet out for a walk that night on Clark Street when it started raining. The rain was realy coming down hard with no shelter even close by exept for the Newberry Library. I was walking as fast as I could with my hands inside my pockets when I heard the car horn sound. The black oldsmobile had slowed to a stop and the window slowly rolled down a crack and this guy hollers, "Hey your gonna drown out there- wanna lift?" Hitchhiking was considered reasonably safe back then- especialy for a man. So I got in and said, "Thanks a lot buddy" as I rolled up the window. The heater was on and I was glad to be some place dry and warm. The driver smiled and introduced himself, "My name's John". "Name's Randall, I replied, "Man the wind was almost as bad as the rain". He replied, "Yeah I have a good friend by that name- hey sorry the heat's so high but I'm feeling kinda' cold." Getting comfortable I finally answered, "That's ok it's your car and I just appreciate you offering me a lift." John laughed and looked over at me and appeared to sort of get lost in his thoughts and asked, "So tell me Randall what are you out doing in this weather- are you looking for a place to stay or something." "I was just walking back home from my girlfriends when It started raining". "Oh I see, he said with a laugh, partying aye"?. I joked back, "Yeah I guess you can say that". John began to figit around a little and said, "You know Randall, I think that your a sociable guy and I would like to buy you a beer if ya don't mind". I looked over at John as he smiled and asked, "You drink beer, don't ya?" Without missing a beat I said, "No thanks, I'm on my way home". I looked straight ahead and started to think that maybe I made a misteak, because I had just realized that John's arm was draped over the seat. Though it wasn't behind me his intentions were evident to me. Some people that may not bother so much but I don't care for that sort of thing. Back in those days many cars didn't have separate seats like today, so I slid over all the way to the door and rested my arm by the window and John looked over and asked "Where'd ya get that done?" "Get what done", I asked with an irritated tone. "I am refering to your tattoo, he explained, it looks like it has wings like it could be military". Looking John in the eye I bluntly said, "I was in the Army, and it's a Special Forces tattoo". John went silent. He was fat and soft and now I just communicated that I could take him if he tried anything. He became obveously uncomfortable because he no longer had control. John removed his arm from the seat and turned on the radio and rested it beside his thigh and asked, "Hey not to change the subject, but did you know anyone on that commuter train that crashed last month?" He was refering to two Illinoise Central Gulf trains that collided in October. Anyway I answered, "Yep, a guy I graduated with but he didn't get hurt". John responded, "It was the worst train wreck the city ever seen". Then this song came on the radio that had sort of a melancholy tune that went perfectly with this strange conversation, loud rain, and John's character. He began eyeing me up and down again said, "I like the Moody Blues... Do you"? Going from irritated to pissed off in a hurry I said, "John, I don't care for this song". "It's called Nights in White Satin- just came out this year", he replied with a strange smile, but it's one of my favorite songs." I snapped back "Sounds depressing to me". Then he said, "Hey how would you like a job, I'm a contractor ya know, and could always use a young strong guy like you." At thisI point I had as much crap as I was willing to take rain or shine, " I'm going to walk the rest of the way home", I answered back. He looked in his rearview mirror and commented, "Not while it's still raining like this". I clinched my fists and faced him, "RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW STOP THE FUCKING CAR"! As he stopped the car he hesitated to look at me. I opened the door and he persistantly said, "Huh.... I was just offering you a job-- Well what the hells' your problem"!? I pointed my finger at him and calmly said, "If you step out of this car faggot I'm gonna break both your damn knees". I slammed the door as he started waving is arms and screaming while I just stood there waiting for the slob to try and do something. That creep knew what would happen if he got out. The only thing the perv could do was sqeal his tires as he took off and finally the black Oldsmobile faded into a speck in the distance. Out of sight and out of mind... Or so I thought.

The next time I seen John Wayne Gacy it was several yeas later on television being escorted by the police before his trial. He was eventualy convicted for 33 murders. I've been through war and have seen death-of which I will not elaborate. After seeing Gacy again and learning about what he did to his victims I can not believe that I accepted a ride in the car that took so many other men to their demise. Maybe this reocurring dream is a reminder from my subconscience that I could have ended up in Gacy's crawl space. I just wish that I could go back and just not get into that car.