I was in the mafia ...
Apparently, ...or so the dream went.My memory picks up when I am caught in a garage by the cops. I hide some implements, ...a drill, a piece of wheel assembly. I act innocent and the cops leave the garage without arresting me.
It seems that myself and my two closest friends, Van and Deac (from the shortlived FOX show Fastlane), were breaking down stolen cars and selling them for parts. Deac and I worked directly for the mob, but Van did not. He was just our weird friend. We were doing this "on-the-side" without the knowledge of the mob, ...and also without splitting the profits with them.
Van and Deac bolted when the cops came, so the cops don't know who they are. They know who I am, but did not obtain any physical evidence to take me in on the spot. Also, they believe that this was a mob operation and I am just a small fish. They want the big fish. So, they are pressuring me to give evidence against the mob, even though the mob had nothing to do with this act.
Of course, the mob finds out about my little operation, and they want to know who is responsible. They believe I am responsible, but they aren't sure. They are sure that I know what's going on, that I was involved, and that I'm being asked to flip on them.
Meanwhile, Deac is telling me that we should stick together because we're in the mob and they will kill us if they found out. He suggests blaming Van for the whole deal, knowing it would result in Van getting whacked.
Van pleads with me to spare him. He emphasizes that we've been friends for a long time and we were in this together.
So, I'm basically screwed and scared as hell.
If I blame Van, a friend dies for my crime.
If I blame Deac, a friend dies for my crime.
If I blame the mob, they get put away and a price gets put on my head and my family's heads. I think about my daughter and my wife and fear for them.
If I don't blame anyone, the cops put me away and I probably become a target for elimination by the mob. After all, I know a lot about their business. If they fear I will sing, I'd be dead.
If I take the blame, the cops put me away, ...same thing.
Each of the people in this drama come to visit me. I have to answer the cops questions tomorrow. The mob boss visits me, speaking in an angry, threatening tone.
I ponder my options, wandering around the garage. My cell phone rings, it's the mob boss' lawyer. I don't answer. They call again, I don't answer.
I wake up. Sweating, frightened. My heart racing. I feel nervous and anxious. I realize it was a dream and start to wonder what I would actually do in that situation.
I still don't have a good answer.
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