Dream   Leave a comment

“I wasn’t me. I remember it so clearly, most of it anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This dream I had last night. I wasn’t me. I was this guy, probably in my late twenties, early 30’s. I was running from something that meant to kill me. Everywhere I turned, windows were busted out. There were billows of smoke from all the buildings and cars were turned over. I hardly saw another living thing, but when I did they were monsters, slimy and sick and slowly urging towards me. I was so hungry and tired and it was really hot outside, probably over 100 degrees. And the killer, the guy that was after me, I couldn’t tell if he was human or not. He would just pop up at the most random moments and he had this sickening sneer on his face like it was all about to get a lot worse. And it felt that way too. It was like every minute, just when I thought I couldn’t go through more, something would happen to compound everything and there I was, pushing through it. I was so scared and it just keep getting harder and harder to go on.

“Oh my god, that must have been horrible.”

“It was beautiful.”


“I told you. I had this dream last night and I wasn’t me.”


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