All is Green After The Dream

Mr. Williams shivered under some worn-out, tattered blankets. The wetness on them from the rain earlier that day was already beginning to solidify into ice, and it made him colder. The cardboard boxes where he lay on the sidewalk offered very little comfort and were barely long enough for his body, but the police did not allow them to have any real mattresses. A cold wind blew again- and Mr. Williams braced himself. He blew into his hands and rubbed them together- as not to feel the cold. His breath vaporized as it was blown into the cold air, then dissipated. At least the coldness on his face numbed the pain he felt, on his rotting teeth. He had a prescription for pain medication, yet he much preferred selling his pills to his peers or trading them for alcohol or cigarettes.

A sudden urge to smoke came over him and he went into another one of his bags to look for his cigarettes. Nothing. He looked in a third bag. Nothing either!! Then he heard laughter across the street. It came from Larry, one of his peers. He smelled the scent of cigarette smoke coming across to him from Larry’s direction and saw from afar a faint burning light. Larry laughed again as he sat on the sidewalk atop another flattened cardboard box and offered a cigarette to the guy sitting next to him. Mr. Williams went for a closer look. It was a box of Newport Menthols, just like the one he had bought that morning! He remembered Larry asking around for cigarettes earlier that afternoon and thought: “Larry asking for cigarettes...Me refusing and falling asleep...and now I can’t find them...Hey! He stole them!”.

Mr. Williams ran across the street to confront Larry- who seemed surprised at his reaction. “Give me back my cigarettes!”- yelled Mr. Williams. “You had no money for them and were asking earlier today! Now I fall asleep and mine are missing!” The other male by Larry’s side got up and ran away as Larry stuffed the box in his coat’s inner pocket. Mr. Williams felt his blood getting hotter. A rage, fueled by a combination of hunger and frustration rose from the pit of his stomach. He was about to burst. Larry got up and gathered his things quickly. He picked up what looked like crumpled dollar bills. As Mr. Williams held himself back for a second or two, he noticed one of the dollar bills he was picking up was painted solid with fluorescent pink ink. Mr. Williams then recalled a child who had handed him a dollar bill just like that one as she passed by with her mom. The child had told him that it was “special” and to never give it away. That was his bursting point. “THAT’S MY DOLLAR!” he yelled and threw himself on Larry. “You are crazy!! Help!!”- cried Larry as Mr. Williams pried Larry’s hand open and took the dollar bill from him. He yanked the lit cigarette from Larry’s mouth and flung it across the street. “NOO!”- yelled Larry and began fighting back, flailing his arms, and pushing his knees against Mr. Williams’ chest, and stomach, to get him off. Mr. Williams applied his greater weight on Larry’s body and pushed back the hands to reach his pocket. Then he heard a strong, cracking sound and a sudden sharp pain disoriented him for a couple of seconds. Warm blood began coming down his face. He had been headbutted by Larry!!

As Larry pushed him off, he quickly got up and started kicking Mr. Williams. Some teenagers ran up to them, with their phones open and already recording. “Bum fight! Bum fight!”- yelled the kids. Larry’s thin legs continued kicking Mr. Williams but as Mr. Williams came to, he grabbed Larry’s foot and pushed him backwards from it and got up. Larry fell backwards and hit his head on the sidewalk. The crowd of kids roared with excitement. Mr. Williams fumbled Larry’s pocket for the pack of cigarettes. The box was all squeezed out of shape and some of the cigarettes looked broken. He un-straddled Larry’s body and as he turned around finally breathing relief, he fell face-first against the warm grate on the sidewalk. The fall knocked the wind out of him and as his hand hit the grate hard, it opened and let go of the pack of cigarettes. Mr. Williams looked down the grate with disbelief. Larry had tripped him! Now his pack was lost for good! A renewed rage surged again- and as Larry stood above him, this time wielding a metal pipe he had picked up, Mr. Williams got up once more and charged into Larry like a bull. Larry was kicked, spat on, and insulted nonstop.

“Someone call the police! Help!”- yelled a horrified woman who passed by at that moment. “Stupid tourists! Ha-ha!!”- mocked some of the kids as they shook their heads and continued recording. The lady flagged down the cops and their car did a quick U-turn as the siren wailed. The officers parked the car and yelled: “Police!! Disperse now! You two! Stop now!”. Mr. Williams did not stop. The resentment against Larry had been a deep, festering wound and he wanted everything to end, right then and there. “Stop!”- yelled the officers again and they tried to pry Mr. Williams off Larry. In his clouded mental state, Mr. Williams pulled his hand free from the officer’s grasp and struck him across the face. “Now, you are under arrest for assaulting a police officer!”- yelled the other cop. Let’s go!” As Mr. Williams struggled, the one that was struck pulled out a can of mace and sprayed it on his face. Mr. Williams screamed in pain. The fresh wound on his head was still open and the liquid burned him like acid. As one officer loaded Mr. Williams on the back of the police cruiser, the other officer stopped the arriving ambulance. The paramedics, clad in gloves and surgical masks, quickly loaded a beat-down, almost unconscious Larry into a stretcher. Mr. Williams looked from inside the police cruiser with anger. “Not fair!”- thought he. “He’s the one that steals from me, and he gets to spend the night in a warm bed, with warm food and TV? And I must sleep in a cold prison cell?? No!! Not fair!!” As Mr. Williams turned his face in disgust, he looked at his side of the street, where his things were. He saw other homeless men that had emerged from the subway picking up his things. “No!”- he yelled while trying to gesture them. “That’s my stuff!! Hey!!”

To his surprise, and as the officers drove away, he saw one of the men lift a box of cigarettes from under the cardboard box where he was laying. Mr. Williams came into shock as a faint memory came back to him. He then recalled drinking some Nyquil he had stolen from the drugstore nearby, because he was craving alcohol. It was either buy alcohol or buy cigarettes. He then remembered that, after smoking one, he had hidden the rest under his cardboard box mattress so no one would steal them. He looked down on the pink dollar bill he had taken from Larry’s hand, as it was inside his flapless, front coat pocket- and realized it was a toy dollar bill! It came to memory as well that he had stuffed the real dollar bill inside his shoe, under his sock, so that no one would get it. His eyes saddened. He began to cry in silence. Surely, Larry had been a nuisance to him and had been a steady competition for food and money hand-outs on that busy block, but he did not deserve a beat-down. “Poor Larry”- thought Mr. Williams. I was wrong to suspect him. He didn’t deserve it. What if he dies? I will do prison, for sure”.

It was Friday night, and the judge would not be able to see him until Monday. He would have to sleep in his cell for the weekend. “Well, at least I will be sort of warm and will have food”- he thought to himself. But the guilt ate away at him, and the hours passed by slowly inside his cell. “I hope he does not die”- he sighed. As Monday rolled in, his public defender asked to see him before going to the judge. “Mr. Williams”- he began as he sat across the table. “I’m afraid to inform you that...Larry Hayes died over the weekend, from his internal injuries”. Mr. Williams’ eyes teared up and he looked up at the ceiling as he drew in a big breath. “They collected evidence at the site and questioned the third man that was there, and some other witnesses. He said you thought Larry stole from you and that’s why you beat him, but he assured the police that not only did Larry never steal from you, but that others found your stuff. He said you beat him for no reason and will testify against you. The kids provided the cops some videos. So, considering Mr. Hayes’ death and this new evidence, they are adding manslaughter to your charges”. Mr. Williams began crying uncontrollably. Tears and mucus puddled under his face, on top of the table. He surely did not mean to kill-again! The first incarceration had taken everything he had worked so hard to get. “What will be lost this time?’- he thought. “My life? Whatever is left of my health and dignity?”.

When Mr. Williams looked up, he saw an almost evil smile on the other man’s face. He thought he saw the defender’s pupils change shape and everything turned darker. He saw the hands on the wall clock spinning faster and faster. Then, about ten officers walked in as fast as if someone were fast-forwarding their movements. There were only holes where their eyes should have been, and their skin looked like it was falling off their faces. Mr. Williams gasped in horror as they all began chanting in unison: “KILLER! KILLER!”. They grabbed him with their skeletal hands and dragged him out of the room, as he kicked and screamed. His last scream was hard and prolonged. It continued until he suddenly realized his mind was clearer. As he opened his eyes, he saw a bright green light from behind a glass windowpane. It was a traffic light. He looked around at the confused- but seemingly relieved paramedics. He saw himself lying on a stretcher, with his chest bare. “Good to see you back sir!” said one of them. “Do you know where you are? We picked you up unconscious. We heard you drank a whole bottle of Nyquil with some pills” Mr. Williams was still a bit confused but seeing the string of green traffic lights behind the ambulance, he realized his life had been in peril and the paramedics had brought him back. Mr. Williams laid back on the stretcher with eyes wide open. That surely had been a close call, and all things that had happened, had been a very bad, vivid dream. When he woke up the next morning, Larry came to see him. “Johnny! My bro! So good to see you!” he said. For the first time, Mr. Jonathan Williams realized that the only enemy he had around was himself, as he allowed all the mistrust, negative thoughts and vices control his body, mind and life. He looked up, this time with thankfulness to God and made the firm resolve to finally get clean and get help. He looked back down and found Larry staring at him and smiling, with his big blue eyes and large bulbous nose. He was no enemy at all- but his only friend. “It is good to see you too, man”- said Mr. Williams, squeezing his friend’s hand and smiling. “It is good to see you too”.