If you’d asked me what the last dream I’d ever expect to have might be, it would be the one about being the main suspect in the Unabomber investigation… Wait a minute! That actually happened. No! I’d have likely said something along the lines of, “Making peace with the Geneva Police.” But not only does my subconscious have a far greater sense of irony than I do, it weaponizes it, too! Because last night I dreamt that I became the newest Geneva police officer—at the ripe old age of 66.
Yes, that Geneva Police. Those officers. The same department with whom I’ve gone to war on multiple levels over the years, armed with nothing more than a column, an attitude, and a Constitutionally protected right to call out bullshit when I see it.
And there’s been A LOT of bullshit to call out.
In this dream, I wasn’t just a cop, I was the best on the force. Which, now that I think about it, isn’t really saying very much. I destroyed the field in the physical testing process, literally running rings around the other recruits and current officers. If there was a medal for outpacing mediocrity, I would’ve taken the gold.
In the first act, I diplomatically disarmed an agitated suspect inside the police station. No gunplay, no overreaction, no seven-officers-dogpile-on-a-guy-who-was-already-sitting-down. Just calm conversation and a peaceful resolution. You know! It’s what policing is supposed to look like.
In the second act, I found a distraught woman’s stolen belongings and promptly captured the thief, delivering justice with such unexpected efficiency that even my dream-self was impressed.
But the real kicker? I got along swimmingly with the chief and the rest of the officers. We laughed. We bonded. We worked together like an actual team. It was… disturbingly wholesome.
Now, if you know anything about my long and acrimonious history with the Geneva Police Department, then you know this dream lands somewhere between a Greek tragedy and a twisted episode of The Twilight Zone. I’ve written columns that blistered the paint off city hall. I’ve fought the GPD in public meetings, in court, and in writing, and I’ve won—every single time.
So, the idea that I would don the uniform and wear it well, is so far beyond irony, it might qualify as satire. But this wasn’t a parody. It was a full-blown subconscious drama with character arcs, conflict resolution, and a surprisingly happy, though truly terrifying, ending.
Though come to think of it, there’s the unmistakable stench of an Invasion of the Body Snatchers scenario here. All I can say is I hope they kept the original me in the fridge for safekeeping.”
Freud might call it the result of an unresolved conflict. Jung would probably say it’s my shadow self trying to reconcile its place in a civil society—like that’ll ever happen. Me? I think it’s just the side effect of editing my Presumed Guilty book far too late at night. That much exposure to the darkest recesses of the human condition will do strange things to a brain—even one as warped as mine.
I’m really starting to think that illegal drugs would be the better option.
Still, it does raise an interesting question: what if the Geneva Police actually behaved like the officers in my dream? What if they practiced empathy before escalation? Listened before reacting? Trusted in their community rather than seeing every civilian as a threat or a major inconvenience?
What if I didn’t have to write all the columns I’ve written?
I’ll say this! Dream Jeff Ward might be the best cop Geneva never had. But Real Jeff Ward? If they put me on the force, I’d solve more crimes in a day than the entire department does in an entire year.
All that peace, love, and understanding aside, if I get the chance to legally or journalistically dismantle that department brick by bureaucratic brick until there’s nothing left, I’ll come out of retirement faster than you can say “Trump doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.”
Because, in truth, the Geneva Police Department is just another perfect example of incompetence wrapped in laziness, with a healthy dose of misplaced self-importance. But hey! If I ever want to go back to a GPD that works hard, behaves professionally, and gets things done, I can always go back to sleep.
