I was a child at the breakfast table the first time I rescued anyone. I was eating my oatmeal as my dad recounted the dream he had the night before: He spoke of being trapped in a cave by a tiger, and of how I rescued him. My eyes were wide as I listened. I rescued him? On the one hand, it was a scary thought: I was only a small child. On the other hand, I was very proud and happy to have done it. Perhaps that moment planted the seeds of my “protector” personality.
I’ve had a recurring dream these many years since then, though not recently. The setting and the specific threat changes from dream to dream, but I am always with or near a group of strangers and there is always danger. And in every scenario it is up to me to calm, disarm, and/or outsmart a madman.
So far we’ve all come out alive.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Daring Do.”