Isaiah's wife wanted to have children. She was nearing her thirty fourth birthday and had been trying to change Isaiah's mind about fatherhood for several years. Their relationship was mainly a content one aside from the kid issue which had been escalating as her birthday neared. During their arguments she often asked, “Can we please go and see a counselor?” and the last time she had asked him Isaiah responded, “I don't need to—I know exactly why I do not want to have children. And I can do my own dream analysis. Want to hear it?”
During the same month his father died of a heart attack (Isaiah by his side but unable to save him and get medical help in time), Isaiah had what he classified as a “bad dream”:
He dreamt that he was in a cult and his father was the leader of the cult. And out of control. In the dream his father wore a Burger King crown and a tattered, terry cloth maroon bathrobe. Everyone in the cult was powerless to stop Isaiah's father. Except Isaiah. He felt responsible to try and reason with his father, being his son. He followed his father through a large, darkened parking lot. His father perched on the hood of a station wagon and tried to listen to what his son had to say. He couldn't listen for long though and soon became irate like a drunk demanding more drink. Isaiah pulled out a knife and stabbed his father. Killing him. In the dream he didn't feel much remorse for what he had done, but rather felt more at ease. Life in the cult would be a happier one now that his father was gone.
This dream, compounded with his father's actual death, which Isaiah also took responsibility for, was enough to convince him that no one should ever be burdened with the guilt Isaiah was burdened with. Especially his own children. The guilt weighed down upon him like a cement block on his chest. The statement, “I refuse to procreate” became a sort of mantra to him. One that he often shared with his wife. “Dammit Isaiah, would you quit wording it that way?” she would plead emphasizing “quit”. He was rarely adamant, but he was adamant about this. “I refuse to procreate,” he said slamming the front door on his way out. He walked a mile in anger. He walked another mile in despair. He replayed the dream again in his head...was he becoming just as tyrannical as his father had been in the dream? Could he really deny the love his life her greatest wish?
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She and the baby died during childbirth. After they were in the ground Isaiah put on a Burger King crown he had been saving for his unborn child and a bathrobe, which happened to be maroon, and did not leave the house for thirty nine months.
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