I just dreamed that a friend and I were time travelling and attempting to stop the Kennedy assignation, only this time due to changes in the temporal flux or whatever (or because I dream whatever the hell I happen to dream), it was happening instead in the same restaurant that my brother was having a date with his new bride in some kind of merging of 1963 and 2015.
While we were waiting for a table, I saw the girl I wanted to to talk to with her parents. We exchanged some pleasantries, but I was distracted and time was getting very short. Then her parents started moving toward the exit and she apologetically said her goodbyes and escaped out the door before I could persuade her otherwise. I was about to call her from my cell and say, "You're gonna wanna stick around for this," (she was about to miss a historic moment) but then how would I explain to the NSA, undoubtedly eavesdropping my phone, that I knew the president was going to be assassinated?
I let go of that and decided to focus. I reached into my jacket pocket and felt the cold steel of the revolver there that I was going to shoot the assassin with when he walked in. I planned, of course, to wait until he drew his and pointed it at the president, both because I wasn't sure what the guy looked like (face it, you don't either) and because I prefer to end this looking like a hero than a deranged killer. Timing would be of the essence, and if I failed, well... not much would be different from the timeline I grew up with, so failure was still an option.
I looked at my friend and asked, "Are you sure you even want to do this? This is going to turn into a hell of an ordeal if we don't like the changes it makes to the timeline." On the conscious level of the dreamer, I was second guessing how long and involved I wanted this dream to be, but on the awareness level of the character I played, I continued to be engrossed in the dream (this was the moment the dream could have become lucid). He gave me a look as if to say, "Why not?"
I checked my phone again. We were getting down to minutes. I walked back and saw my brother and his wife sitting in the booth in the left corner. They hadn't ordered yet. Kennedy and his company were sitting in the booth in the right corner, their meal well underway. My friend and I still couldn't get a table and we had been waiting forever. This was getting ridiculous. I had already made the decision to order whatever I want since I wouldn't have to pay for it (who would make someone pay for their dinner after either witnessing an assassination or stopping one, especially after I give them the old, "I'm never coming back here again!") It didn't matter now. The wait was so long, I wasn't even going to have a chance to order and have anything arrive, which was really frustrating and pressing on my mind as equally as the pending shootout. I can't believe we didn't make reservations. Time travelling with a full knowledge of the future and still terrible at making plans.
The place had an ass load of people and it was hard to move. Of course Kennedy couldn't get assassinated on a slow night. I barely got to talk to the girl I am interested in, didn't get a table OR a free meal, had to wait forever and now I would have to shoot someone on an empty stomach. Dreams have a way of dangling everything in front of you while letting your struggle at some unresolvable goal.
But I decided to forget all that. It was time to get serious about waiting for the assassin. At least one thing about this night can go right. I looked at my friend. "That's it. We're going to sit with Timothy."
"But he's on a date with his new bride," he said. "We can't sit with him."
"Doesn't matter," I replied. "Let's go crash his party, shoot the shit for a bit and keep an eye on the door. He'll be irritated, but this is all going to be over in a few minutes. Make sure you comment on her dress."
We start heading that way, my hand resting on the gun handle in my jacket. This was where I woke up.
