In Which I Ruin Christmas

I have a recurring dream in which I kill my uncle. He’s the youngest of my mother’s brothers and sisters, and by far the least stable, and that’s saying something. He’s quick to anger, volatile, and has settled most of his disputes with his fists. He has that killer mentality that I’ve never been able to grasp, and it’s a surprise he hasn’t killed anyone yet (as far as I know, at least.) It’s as if all of the nastiness in my mother’s family was rolled up into one person, or perhaps it was because after having had eleven children, my grandmother had nothing good left to give him when he came along.

My mother has told me, in no uncertain terms, that he is not to come to her funeral. In my dream he does show up and it is my task to let him know that he is not welcome. Of course he refuses to leave. The last time we spoke I was nothing but a teenager and he thinks he can still treat me like one. He can’t, and predictably he loses his temper. He tries to hit me, but I’ve anticipated the moment since the time I woke up that morning and I duck low and spin around him taking his back. I’m surprised at how powerful he is as we go down. I scramble and get an arm around his throat. I sink in the choke with my other arm and wrap my legs around him to keep him in place. He trashes around so wildly that he breaks most of my face with the back of his head. It doesn’t matter, however, because the more he trashes around the sooner he’ll use up his oxygen. I cut off both his cortical arteries as I squeeze with my one arm and push down on the back of his head with my other. It doesn’t take very long before he passes out. Once he does I don’t let go until they drag me off of him. By that time it’s too late, he’s dead and my mother’s funeral is nothing like she wanted it to be.

I have no idea why I don’t let him go once he’s out.