Thursday, April 4, 2013

A Bad Dream, and Bad Times Getting Worse

Ol' Backwoods has been married for 25 years to a woman that, honestly, I fell in love with the first time I talked to her.  She is everything in this world to me.  Where we live, my preparations for bad times, my thoughts, and indeed my whole life revolves around this woman, the love of my life, and our children.  I would do nothing to hurt her.  I love her more than my desire to live.  I say all this to help you understand the shock of the story I am about to relate.

Two nights ago, Mrs. Backwoods had a vivid dream of a possible (probable?) near future.  She dreamed the Federal government had finally decided to go door-to-door to confiscate firearms that hadn't been turned in.  She dreamed that the jackbooted thugs came to our door, armed to the teeth, and demanded our firearms, starting with the shotgun she uses for home defense, which always stays in our bedroom.  In the dream, I told her no, we weren't going to give them to the Feds.  Next in the dream, the Fed jackboots opened fire and shot her in cold blood.

As she lay dying in the dream, she observed herself writing this on the floor in her own blood:


She described the spelling exactly that way.

As the Mrs. told me this, the blood drained from my face in horror.  My jaw hung open.   I literally had no words to say.  It was the most horrifying thing she had ever told me.  It spooked me way worse than when, almost 21 years ago, she told me that our newborn son had a congenital heart condition.

Some people might say this dream is premonitory, but I just can't accept that.  It has to be a culmination of her fears.  This dream says to me that my wife believes, deep down, that a) the Feds will eventually murder us for being gun owners, and b) only when she is a martyr to the cause will I be happy.  Nothing could be further from the truth, but how do you respond to that?

Maybe I need to calm way down on talking about home defense with her and my kids.  Maybe I need to go ahead and put the shotgun and my carbine back in the safe, out of sight and out of mind.  Maybe I need to stop buying ammo for awhile, so she isn't reminded of the horror every time she looks at the checking account.  Maybe I need to stop going to the range, and talking about going to Appleseed this spring.

And when confiscation does come, as it must inevitably-- how can the Marxists in charge let us live and be armed, to spoil their plans? -- what do I do?  Load up all my guns and leave?  Bury them in the woods?  All of that just delays the inevitable.

Needless to say, I'm very, very disturbed about all of this.  For now, I think the guns go back in the safe.

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