Dream of:02 March 1984 (2) "Bank Hold-Up"
My father and I were in the Gay Street House; we were both working for Mr. Woods (a legal client). We had prepared the legal documents for a loan of around 10 million dollars and were preparing to go to Woods' office (about 150 kilometers away) to close the loan.
I was getting dressed in my blue, pin-stripped suit. Unable to find a clean shirt, I donned a white shirt which I had already worn once; I hoped no one would notice the shirt wasn't completely clean. My father was also getting dressed, but he was only putting on some old clothes. He said he was going to change when he arrived.
While my father dressed, I began reading a magazine called "Financial Times," in which I found an article describing how Woods had first started making his fortune. In one column were some figures, under which were some words which were dim and hard to read because they apparently had been printed over. Then the regular print began again.
The article said Woods had started his business in Tennessee, where he had begun investing in high risk projects. Because of the risk, he had received large returns for his investments. Lately he had begun investing in projects which weren't so risky. The return wasn't as large now, but the projects were more secure. More recently, Woods had furnished loans to people who planted walnut trees.
I asked my father if he had read the article and he said he hadn't. I pointed out that Woods was making loans to people planting walnut trees. Such news excited me because I myself had been thinking about the possibility of planting walnut trees on the Gallia County Farm – maybe Woods could finance the project.
Finally my father was ready. But now I needed to go to the bathroom and urinate. I walked into the bathroom, began urinating and continued for a very long time. Even thought I knew my father was waiting, I couldn't seem to stop. When I finally finished, I walked back out to him. We left the House and walked out to the car.
As we walked, I began to notice my attire. I was wearing brown shoes and a pair of bright green socks (my father was also wearing a pair of green socks) and I thought I shouldn't have worn those socks. I also remembered the last time I had gone to a closing in Woods' office, I had worn this same blue, pin-stripped suit. I thought to myself I should have worn my black, pin-stripped suit today. But then I figured it probably wouldn't matter, that nobody would notice. Inexplicably, I was also wearing my brown sports coat over top my suit. I thought I would simply take off the brown sports coat when we arrived.
We boarded my father's car and as he drove along, we passed a bank on our left, where I noticed a new auto-window being installed. We passed another bank near the side of the road. Some orange stuff which I first thought was pumpkins (but which looked more like orange snow) was piled beside the bank, overflowing into the road. My father tried to drive through the orange pile and became stuck.
Since the bank window was near the car and a girl was standing in it, my father rolled down his window and asked the girl if she could send someone out to help him out. When she said she couldn't do anything, I blurted, "Look bitch, get somebody out here to push us."
She called someone and a man who looked like a guard walked out. In the meantime my father had managed to back out of the snow. He and I stepped out of the car and walked into the bank where the girl was. She immediately began screaming and a man (who I at first thought was the guard) pulled out a large gun which looked like a machine gun. I was going to do something, but then I realized the man who had pulled out the gun wasn't the guard after all; this fellow (dressed in a green army uniform) was actually pointing his gun at the guard. Obviously a hold-up was in process.
I didn't see what had happened to my father, but I slipped back outside where some other cars had pulled up and I crawled under one. Another car pulled up and the driver (I couldn't tell if man or a woman) appeared to be talking on a CB. Maybe I should run over, jump in the car and watch what was happening.
As I lay there, I wondered what people in Woods' office would think if my father were killed, and I closed the loan anyway. I thought, "Well, if he was dead, there wouldn't be anything I could do about it."
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