Maybe it should say “nightmare report”, because this one was fucked. I would put it down to all the mass shootings in the news, but I don’t watch TV at all and mostly exist inside my own little cocoon. I hear about mass shootings but don’t typically dwell on them overmuch.
It took place in the modern day, real world, but everything was almost black and white. Not quite. Stuff had color to it but everything was faded. The “camera” was always slanted too. There were parts of it where I had no body, I was just a first person perspective on the scene.
Sometimes I was running from one hiding place to another from my own point of view. Other times I was watching myself from a removed vantage point with that awkward angle to it. Always frantic, heart racing, because there was a man with a gun after me.
He’s bald, pale and wears a black hoodie. No matter where I hide he somehow homes right in on me, pulls me out from my hiding place kicking and screaming, then shoots me in the head. It’s not like it presumably would be irl either, I feel the bullet go through my brain in slow motion.
First, the point of the bullet tip pressing into my temple. Then bone cracking, and the feeling of the scalding hot bullet penetrating into the soft, delicate tissue of my brain. Burrowing slowly through it, spinning like a drill, tearing my memories and ambitions apart along the way.
Then it explodes out the opposite side of my skull, a spiraling blossom of blood, brain batter and bone shards spreading out from the exit wound in slowmo, casting a unique pattern of gore onto the asphalt or interior of whatever hiding place I found.
Only then do I black out. But soon after, I wake up. There is still a hole in my head but I’m alive again somehow. I panic because the gunman is still somewhere nearby, seeking out a new hiding place. Inside a cabinet? Soon I hear footsteps approaching. My heart pounds. He throws the door open and shoots me.
In the forehead this time. Again I feel the bullet burrow through my brain. Ripping, shredding, the bullet cauterizing my soft jiggling brain matter as it plows through it. Then another burst of steamy gore out of the exit wound. I black out, and wake up soon after.
Now there are two pretty substantial openings in my skull. I’m laying down flat on the pavement, wondering if there is any point to getting up. I felt the sun blistering my exposed brain through the gaping exit wound in the back of my skull. Boiling it.
Then I felt a fly land and begin to pick at it. Then some more flies until they were teeming on my exposed brain, sucking up the juices. When the ants came I finally got up. It was useless to hide but I didn’t want my brain totally destroyed. I felt intense desperation to protect my brain from any more injury.
I wound up hiding in a parked car. Hoping against hope he wouldn’t find me, but he did. Didn’t even open the door, just shot through the glass. I thrashed around trying to avoid the bullets. I raised my hands as a shield but he shot through them.
I dragged myself out of the car after waking up next, bleeding from bullet holes all over my body, eye hanging out. I found my couch inside and just lay there crying. Wanting to be comfortable at least, though I knew he would only show up again.
When he did, he grabbed a cushion and put it over my face, then shot through it, as if using it as a silencer. Mercifully it all finally ended here. I woke up choking and drenched with sweat. It was one of the most visceral nightmares I’ve ever had.
Just relentless bullets to the head. One after the next. I kept trying to salvage whatever I could but they just kept coming until all I had was a wide open shattered skull and some bloody, mushy pulp that used to be everything about me that made me distinct from anybody else.
I just wanted to save some of my brain, but he wouldn’t let me have any of it. I couldn’t get away, I couldn’t stop resurrecting each time until the very end. There was just no way out and nothing to do but run away for a while, then get shot in the head.
It was just the most intense, powerful fear and feeling of helplessness. I was as afraid every time as I was the time before it. He never hesitated to pull the trigger, and never gave up on finding my next hiding place.
I think if I were to self analyze, this would be one of the easier ones. I have absolutely been feeling helpless lately. People I care about are in bad situations. I was able to help them out in a big way back when Steem surged in value during the Summer, but it’s petered out since then.
Now I can barely support myself. You can’t pour from an empty cup, but that just feels like a rationale to be selfish. I still feel obligated to send money their way because they need to live just as much as I do. I’m between a rock and a hard place with no relief in sight.
It would be cool if this dream had given me ideas for solutions instead of just rubbing my nose in the problem. That might be asking a bit much from my own subconscious, but not raking me over the coals doesn’t seem like too much to ask, holy shit. I don’t know what I said, did or thought to bring this dream on but hopefully I never revisit it.
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