backforthmenu Another Dream. I am a bored indy rock drummer from San Diego. I am walking along a remote roadway with a backpack on, thinking of Superchunk songs and various drum fills. I come to a sort of island median at a crossroads and begin to climb a hill up towards a bridge above. I am a bored, uneducated criminal from Alabama. My bored, uneducated criminal acquaintance is sitting next to me in the driver’s seat of a late model sedan parked in a sort of island median at a crossroads. Our windows are rolled down and we are smoking, thinking of nothing. I see a young man climbing up the hill to the bridge. I see a car below with two men seated in it. I have a bad feeling. I know they are going to intrude on my walk. I come to a road barrier on the bridge and my climb becomes very precarious. We get out of our car knowing that this man climbing the bridge barrier is going to be our preoccupation for the next while. I pull out my gun and begin to shoot at him, not really trying to hit him. We laugh. They are shooting at me now. I’m losing my balance. I fall. The man falls, though I didn’t hit him with a bullet. I walk over to him. He doesn’t look too hurt at all. I lay on the ground as the men approach me. One straddles me with his large frame. He’s laughing. My hand finds a self-defense sized rusty nail and I shove it into his ribs. 9/1/98, 4:30am