I like sleeping without having dreams whatsoever. And if there must be an exception, I prefer the lucid ones where I know I’m dreaming. Those are the dreams I actually enjoy because I can take control, work my way out of whatever is happening, and bring up the next thing I want to see.
But lately, I’ve been having these violent dreams that aren’t lucid in the slightest. The most terrifying part is that they continue exactly where they stopped the previous night. It has been three nights in a row now, and I keep having the same dream pattern, with faces I don’t recognize and people I have never seen before.
The weirdest part is that I don’t even live in the hood, yet my dreams have somehow transported me into one, and not the peaceful kind. This hood is violent, chaotic and downright grotesque.
The first night, I was on my way to my sister’s house when it started raining heavily. The ground became extremely slippery, slowing my walking pace. I was moving so slowly that it felt like my legs were tied together and I was desperately trying to break free. I eventually tried to sprint but it was like in slow-motion.
Then I got to the next street, the one that would take me straight to my sister’s house, which was about three blocks away. That was when I saw them. A group of boys, all dressed in white T-shirts, jorts and brown cowboy boots. They had axes slung over their shoulders, and they looked absolutely furious.
Then they started running down the street towards the other end of it, moving together like a school of zebras. People scattered in every direction. Everyone was running with incredible speed, except me. For some reason, I could barely move my feet. I was taking what felt like minutes to move a single foot.
Thankfully, these boys seemed to have a specific target, and it obviously wasn’t me. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop them from swinging their axes at anyone who got in their way. I eventually made it to my sister’s house, moving at what can only be described as snail speed but I was completely drenched from the rain.
I asked my sister what was happening, but she didn’t say a word. She simply pulled me inside, locked the deadbolt and shut me in. I was shaken and started asking if we were safe. She shushed me. Then she told me that we all needed to lie flat on our stomachs on the floor. Then came the gunshot. BANG.
I screamed and jolted awake. I was covered in sweat and shaking so badly that it took me a while to convince myself that I was actually in my room.
Then the next night, the dream continued. Exactly where it stopped. This time, I was lying face down on the ground with an axe pressed against my neck. I asked what my crime was. They told me I was affiliated with someone they were looking for.
I started weeping uncontrollably, desperately trying to convince them that they had the wrong person. But my sister was gone. There was no one familiar around me anymore. Just me and these unfamiliar faces.
When I woke up, I started trying to make sense of it. I tried connecting it to my actual life. But how? I don’t even have that much friends. I certainly don’t have friends involved in gangs. My sister doesn’t live in a hood, either. So where exactly is my brain getting all of this from? And do people from the hood even bring their nonsense to where sane people live? Because this dream world clearly has no regard for jurisdiction.
Everything happens so quickly that I barely have time to process one terrifying thing before another one starts.
Then came the third night. At this point, I was apparently awaiting my judgment. Someone walked in and commanded that I should leave but there was a condition. He wanted to play a game. I was supposed to run as fast as I could while he aimed and shot at me. If he missed, I won. If he didn’t, I lost.
So I ran. And then,
POW.
That was all I heard.
I felt the bullet pierce my neck. Except there was no blood. I dropped to the ground and tried to scream, but nothing came out and then I woke up. Again.
Now I’m genuinely terrified of going to sleep tonight because what happens next, I don’t want to find out. I don’t want a fourth episode and I certainly don’t want my brain to renew this series for another season. Three episodes were already more than enough.
The worst part is that the dreams don’t just disappear when I wake up. They linger. I carry that fear into my day, and everything feels a little darker and more sombre afterwards.
So tonight, I’m hoping my brain finally gets bored of its little horror production and gives me something completely ordinary. Preferably a dream where I’m eating cake somewhere peaceful surrounded in rainbows and sunshine with butterflies all around.
No gangs, no axes, no guns. And absolutely no sequels.
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