Duke’s Thoughts
Godzilla Cometh
The story I am about to tell you is true in a round about sort of way, as you might infer from the title this story is about the Fantasy Monster we all know an love as Godzilla. I am not talking about the modern day interpretation but the classic seemingly indestructible monster that from time to time comes to Tokyo or some other unfortunate Japanese town to stomp it flat. But try as they might they just can’t seem to put a dent in his armor.
Before we get to Godzilla a little background information is in order, my name is David but my friends just call me Duke. How I got that name is a story of its own, but any way I grew up in what was once as small city compared to Seattle or Spokane in a sleepy little neighborhood called Crystal View. Our neighborhood was surrounded by trees that would go for what seemed like miles, I knew all the nooks and crannies of that back woods. Our house was just two doors down from the end of the street and the beginning of the woods. Most often I would take my adventures in those woods entering from the back yard or sometimes going to the end of the street.
My childhood home was situated at the end of the street with two distinct hills affectionately call the big hill and the little hill. The little hill was directly to the left of our drive way perhaps a hundred feet or so, while the house sat at the base of the big hill. My brother and I along with the other neighborhood kids loved to go down that hill in those Big Wheeled plastic trikes. You know the kind with the large wheel in the front from which the Big Wheel gets it’s name, and the spin out lever on the right. We would take the Big Wheels up to the top of the Big Hill and just let gravity take us all the way down and spin out at the bottom. The goal usually was trying to get the closest to our driveway without actually touching it.
To get to the bus stop and catch the bus to school I had to walk up the Big Hill passed this one house at the top where I was constantly tormented by this little bull dog that just loved to chase me. When I say little I mean about the size of Pug but broader at the shoulders with all the usual characteristics of a bull dog. The little monster would chase me for a block or two and then turn back home to await my return from school. It was about a mile give or take to the bus stop and I had to pass a friend’s house along the way, no more than four blocks from where the little monster lived.
My friend, I will call him Herb, lived in a quaint house just to the right along the street that led into a nicely wooded neighborhood called Shiloh Woods. It is from their our story about Godzilla will begin. This story is actually a dream of mine that would always seem to occur around the same time each year. It occurred regularly until I was about sixteen or seventeen and it just stopped with one exception several years later while I was stationed in Italy.
It would always start out the same way and in the exact same neighborhood not matter where I was living at the time and always in the dream I was the same physical age I was currently. It was a bright sunny summer day and I was playing in the front yard when all of the sudden the sky would start to turn cloudy and blocking out the sun. This always signaled that Godzilla was coming after me, he wanted no one else but me and for what reason I have no idea even to this day.
But I would invariably take the same actions each time, I would first run into the garage to find my dad’s 1965 Plymouth Furry III. It was a two door five passenger car with bench seats, the family went every where in that beloved and faithful car. It was blue with a greenish tint to it and I always associated it with my dad, I even told him that the car looked like him. As luck would have it though the car was not in the garage so I would have to go looking for it; like usual it was parked outside my friend Herb’s place. By the time I would finally get there I could see Godzilla but as yet could not see me.
My next action was always to climb in the car, which for some fortunate reason of circumstance was always unlocked. An unusual occurrence in reality since my dad always locked the car even when at home and in the garage with the door shut and locked. To say that he was security conscious would be putting it mildly. He even went so far as to build a lockable door system for the sliding glass door in the back. But I digress, once in the car I would do something that was only possible in dreams, I would hide under the front bench seat looking nervously out the back for Godzilla.
Naturally Godzilla would find the family car and pick it up to look inside and I would close my eyes until Godzilla finally put the car down and wondered off into Shiloh Woods. On occasion though while Godzilla was examining the car I would sneak a peek but would promptly close my eyes tight and wait for the tell tale signs that he was gone. If I ever woke up before the dream was over, the moment I went back to sleep it would pick up from where it left off or start from the beginning, it was as if some power insisted that I go through the whole dream sequence with no exceptions.
The very last time I had this dream I was stationed in Vicenza, Italy and was in my second year of a three year tour. Once again it was around the same time of year that it always occurred and it started just exactly the same only I was an adult now and dressed my BDU’s (Battle Dress Uniform). It all started the same and my actions were the same except I didn’t bother with the garage I just started running up the big hill as always and promptly hid under the front bench seat of my dad’s Plymouth. Once Godzilla set the car down I had one final action that was new to the sequence. When I got out of the car I literally picked up that old Plymouth and threw it at him. Godzilla just ignored the car as it bounced of his back and didn’t even give me a second glance as I was cursing him up one side and down the other like a Drill Sergeant at Basic Training.
Since that time in Vicenza I have not had a single recurrence of the dream, I was twenty six then and it has been fourteen years since Godzilla Cometh and what ever lesson I needed to learn must have finally been learned. That old Plymouth gave up the ghost years before Godzilla had made his final appearance. It lays in pieces collecting rust, dirt and whatever else nature has to give forth upon it, it met its fate long ago when I was about 15. My dad and I decided to take it apart piece by piece, it had run for over 20 years on the original motor with only a partial rebuild to replace the rings on the pistons. Our running joke while we were disassembling her was that we were changing the oil but couldn’t find the dip stick. By days end all that was left of her was the shell that once protected us from the elements on our many family trips. We made one final joke that we found the dip stick and could now change the oil then left her to the elements where she remains to this day.