a vivid cinema dream I had in the middle of the afternoon

I was probably eleven years old with a younger brother
who ran behind me out of the station wagon,
around the A-frame and through the woods.

Mother had worked out a deal for childcare and vacation
at the cabins of our friends.
The first night set up the scene of a pale savanna landscape
and dust in the 70's.
It was immature exploration and news of a grandfather
who had recently and unfortunately gone away.
Then, "come in, have dinner and go to sleep, kids."

The second day was a drive to an estate sale at his house.
The widow was there in a chair in the corner
and my brother and I explored the trinkets
of an early time
in this man's life.
On overhearing the adults' conversation, I learned
he had spent the last several years
journaling evidence to convict a man, who was deep in crime.

That man came into the house next, dark and rough and tall
and he brought three others with him.
He had no respect or use for us boys, so he ignored us.
I think my mother was petrified, my father wasn't around.
They had come for the proof.
He had passed away but the grandfather's
paper trail was still haunting them.

They figured it out soon enough, that what they came for
was hidden in the second-hand sale.
An old camera still had film it in, so they ripped it out
but the film wasn't ruined, it showed black outlines and schematics.
I pretended to help examine the negatives, holding them to the light,
and I found it.
I had to quickly hide the incrimination in my lap.
Then they found a sticky typewriter ribbon of his article
and that too I had to wad up and shove beneath the table.
I had to show them everything they found was meaningless,
"It's just his transactions and stories," I lied.
I had the feeling they wouldn't be merciful if I was found out.

I wrapped everything up in newspapers and colored paper
and made an excuse for leaving,
though I know I must have looked guilty on my way outside.

I came out the front porch and onto the dry lawn.
A brown sedan was gently coming down the dirt road,
a man with his young son in the right seat. I think he knew the family.

I made them stop, threw my armload into the backseat
and said "here's all the evidence you'll need
now get the hell out of here."
He heard the urgency in my voice.  He understood me,
he turned the car around,
and he sped away.

But the road was quickly blocked by the henchmen
and their long cars and the tall man was soon there too.
From where I was down the street,
I could hear him yelling and see him look into the backseat,
freeze for an instant,
then shoot a dirty glare down towards me
and I knew it was all over.

It was dusk by now.  I quickly climbed into my own car
and though it took me a moment to understand,
I put it into gear and accelerated as fast as I could
toward the group in the road.
I could feel myself picking up speed.

I could feel myself waking up, now, in anticipation of the crash.
I had to decide whether to wake or recommit.
I knew the story wouldn't be authentic, so I got up.