I've recently been labeled as a "recovering cop". I couldn't agree more. Since I left my past life career as a deputy, I have led a very different life style. But, I still find myself in "cop" mode throughout my days. I still have the horrible nightmares of bullets that don't hit the bad guy. No, those bullets come shooting out of my gun, then take a sharp turn to the left or right, mostly left.
Once, I hit the bad guy. He was beating his wife while having her bent over backwards over the kitchen counter. Her back was so bent, I swear it was going to snap. He had her by the throat with his left hand and was punching her in the face, repeatedly with the right. He had to have been about 6' 2" and built like a shit brick house. His fists were square and muscular. His veins were popping out of his forearms. She wasn't making a sound. This was the scene I walked into.
I announced my presence and ordered him to stop. Phfst! He didn't even acknowledge a cop was standing behind him. I knew I wasn't going to stop him using physical force. He would just fling me off like a fly! The only other recourse I had to save this woman, who was now limp, was to shoot him. I shot and watched the bullet hit him in the right shoulder. My only thought was, "Damn! That was a shitty shot." Well, big guy stopped hitting his wife, slowly turned his torso and head over his right shoulder to look at me. He smiled at me, turned back around and continued his face bashing party. Me: "You've got to be shitting me. This isn't good." I had no choice but to shoot again. I did. I hit that sucker dead center in the back of the head. It was all in S L O W motion. The bullet left my gun, traveled through the air, entered the back of his head leaving a little hole. It then exited his head through his forehead. The exit wound was massive. He had no forehead left. Blood brains, skin and snot was flying through the air and landed on the window above the sink and all over the kitchen cupboards. Me: "YES! I hit the SOB and ended this horror!"
I apparently, just pissed him off. He stopped bashing his wife's face, which now looked like blood pudding. He spun around toward me and turned into the incredible hulk, green and all! Mr. wife beating hulk charged at me. Me: "OH FUCK! They didn't cover this shit in the academy." I turned and ran out the door and down the never ending, spiraling stairs. I was mad at myself for being chicken shit. Then I woke up covered in sweat and out of breath. I laid in bed pondering this odd dream and came to the conclusion that I shouldn't have been mad at myself. I shot him twice, once in the brain. He should've fallen dead there and then (in the real world). Instead, he ran at me. I was only a few steps away from him as they lived in a single wide trailer. I had no choice but to run. But, I was
still mad. It was just the feeling I woke with and had to wait for the feelings to fade out so I could get back to sleep because I had to go to work in the morning . . . to chase bad guys. Hmmmm!!!
I'm not laughing at the dream, it was a terrible nightmare that I don't wish to repeat. But, I laugh at my husband jumping out of bed, half awake, totally naked and running out of the room. I couldn't get him back into the bed for two nights after that because I scared him so bad. He said he watched my head turn so I was facing my back and looking directly at him, screeching like a sea hag (yoga practitioners are flexible) and it looked like a scene from the exorcist. Of course, my Medusa do didn't make me look any prettier. I remember doing this too. I could not have scared him better if this was all planned out! I wish I had gotten it on video! He called me "Emily Rose" for months after.
Once, I hit the bad guy. He was beating his wife while having her bent over backwards over the kitchen counter. Her back was so bent, I swear it was going to snap. He had her by the throat with his left hand and was punching her in the face, repeatedly with the right. He had to have been about 6' 2" and built like a shit brick house. His fists were square and muscular. His veins were popping out of his forearms. She wasn't making a sound. This was the scene I walked into.
I announced my presence and ordered him to stop. Phfst! He didn't even acknowledge a cop was standing behind him. I knew I wasn't going to stop him using physical force. He would just fling me off like a fly! The only other recourse I had to save this woman, who was now limp, was to shoot him. I shot and watched the bullet hit him in the right shoulder. My only thought was, "Damn! That was a shitty shot." Well, big guy stopped hitting his wife, slowly turned his torso and head over his right shoulder to look at me. He smiled at me, turned back around and continued his face bashing party. Me: "You've got to be shitting me. This isn't good." I had no choice but to shoot again. I did. I hit that sucker dead center in the back of the head. It was all in S L O W motion. The bullet left my gun, traveled through the air, entered the back of his head leaving a little hole. It then exited his head through his forehead. The exit wound was massive. He had no forehead left. Blood brains, skin and snot was flying through the air and landed on the window above the sink and all over the kitchen cupboards. Me: "YES! I hit the SOB and ended this horror!"
I apparently, just pissed him off. He stopped bashing his wife's face, which now looked like blood pudding. He spun around toward me and turned into the incredible hulk, green and all! Mr. wife beating hulk charged at me. Me: "OH FUCK! They didn't cover this shit in the academy." I turned and ran out the door and down the never ending, spiraling stairs. I was mad at myself for being chicken shit. Then I woke up covered in sweat and out of breath. I laid in bed pondering this odd dream and came to the conclusion that I shouldn't have been mad at myself. I shot him twice, once in the brain. He should've fallen dead there and then (in the real world). Instead, he ran at me. I was only a few steps away from him as they lived in a single wide trailer. I had no choice but to run. But, I was 
That was just one of the many dreams. I won't get into the Sumo wrestler dream today. Maybe someday. You coppers out there, you all know what I'm talking about. We all have these dreams and talk about them before and after shift briefing. This thing is, they haven't stopped. 
I spoke with a
dear friend and former co worker a few days ago and mentioned this to
him. He's been in the field most of his life, over 25 years now. He
said the dreams don't ever stop. I didn't tell him about the dream I had
that was so bad, it scared my husband and I had to get up and go pee or I was
going to wet the bed. I was laughing at my poor husband's facial
expressions. OMG! This dream was a few years ago and I am laughing
so hard right now!!!
I'm not laughing at the dream, it was a terrible nightmare that I don't wish to repeat. But, I laugh at my husband jumping out of bed, half awake, totally naked and running out of the room. I couldn't get him back into the bed for two nights after that because I scared him so bad. He said he watched my head turn so I was facing my back and looking directly at him, screeching like a sea hag (yoga practitioners are flexible) and it looked like a scene from the exorcist. Of course, my Medusa do didn't make me look any prettier. I remember doing this too. I could not have scared him better if this was all planned out! I wish I had gotten it on video! He called me "Emily Rose" for months after.
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