In an earlier Crazy Dreams post I mentioned that my dream stories get darker, and this is one of those stories.
WARNING: Yes, this one has dead children in it. It’s not violent or bloody and graphic, but if you’re sensitive or don’t like the subject matter then do not read on.
The Executed Children
I was standing at the end of a driveway of an average suburban townhouse I couldn’t recognize, as a spectator and not a participant.
I heard the children’s voices but could not understand what they are saying; I watched as the children, all dressed in white, left their homes, their mom following close behind them to lock the door.
Everything is impossibly bright, anything that wasn’t main story seemed whitewashed.
The concrete front porch, the black driveway, the white garage door, and grey SUV all prominent in colour to me.
The mother is then shot from the end of the driveway and life splits into two directions: I am both the shooter and the mother.
I involuntarily outstretch my arm, aim, and shoot; I feel a sudden impact, lose balance, and fall over the railing into the green bushes now surrounding the concrete front step.
I am standing by the SUV, a gun in hand. I can’t hear the children screaming but I feel their panic. I need to hide. I am next.
I drop to my stomach (a shot is fired) and drag my body under the SUV (a shot is fired).
As I lay there looking around as best as I can I see only one children sized pair of shoes running to hide behind the SUV.
Everything is unbelievably silent between gunshots.
I try to tell the the small shoes to get down and climb under the car, but they cannot hear me.
There is a shot and the girl is dead, he tiny body hitting the ground with a heavy smack; no bounce, just impact.
Her vacant eyes stared into mine as we laid on the ground together. A large black hole in the middle of her forehead.
There was no blood seeping out, only darkness.
I heard the shooter circling the car, but saw no feet. Something was telling me the danger was over.
I listened carefully but heard nothing now.
Carefully I began to crawl out from underneath the SUV, but as I did I woke up.
This dream only happened once, but it had felt so real it has clung to me until this day.
The following week after this dream occurred I found that I was floating in and out of life, rather than living it. My mind felt reoccupied and full of the dead girls stare.
It was the perfect fit to how I felt while experiencing this dream.