Dream of My Father Shooting Someone, 1960s, by Anonymous

From MemoryArchive

Who: Anonymous
What: Recurring dream of my father shooting someone.
When: 1960s to present.
Where: Midwest.

Since I was a little kid, I’ve had the following recurring dream.

It’s circa 1965. I’m in a car with my father. He’s driving. I’m small, say 6 or so. The car is his, but I don’t recognize it. I’m really scared. There is tension in the air, as we both know he has a hand gun and that he is going to shoot someone. I’m not sure who the target is. I’m very afraid and confused. My father was a rough, violent man, but I’d not known him to shoot anyone. This time, however, he was going to do it. I recall the smell of hair cream, the kind men commonly used in the 1960s. And leather. The seats of the car are leather. Maybe the car’s a “Thunderbird.” I don’t know.

We are driving in our neighborhood. I clearly recognize our house, and those of our neighbors. This terrifies me even more—he’s going to kill someone I know. Much to my horror, he stops in front of the house of my sister’s friend, the house of a prominent doctor. In reality, this doctor actually saved my life.

My father gets out of the car and tells me to stay put. He walks up the sidewalk and onto the porch. I’m out of my mind with fear. He rings the bell, the door opens, and my father raises his pistol and fires. I couldn’t see who’d opened the door, but I somehow knew it was the doctor. My father calmly holstered the weapon, walked down the path, opened the car door, and got in. He looked straight at me as he started the car. His eyes said “Don’t tell, or you’ll get it too.” We drove away. The dream ends.

I’ve had this dream hundreds of times.