It started in a house similar to my grandmothers. I found a good friend of mine dead, lying face forward on the bed. Blood leaking everywhere, the cause of death: an arrow shot in the back of his head.
The killer was a small black child running around giggling carrying a compound hunting bow.
Enraged the parents never punished him for his crimes, I took it upon myself to take an arrow with my hand and hit him in the buttock with it.
He began crying, to which I thought it typical.
His father, a fit yet shorter black man began repeating "Leave, now" in the same exact tone.
I told him "I can't drive without my wallet now can I?" To which I grabbed my wallet off the floor and got into my car.
I was at Andrea's house. Andrea was there and her brother who was playing in the pool in the backyard.
Andrea showed me around the house, and when we got to the bedroom we began passionately making out. What happened can best be described as an explosion of fleshy pleasures and anticipation of what would happen next. We threw ourselves onto the satin-sheet covered bed, still caressing each other with our hands and tongues.
With both hands I grabbed the bottom of her shirt. Even while was dreaming I was cognisant of how fast my heart was racing, as far as I knew this was all real.
Then my father entered the front door of the house asking if I was here, the sudden intrusion caused us to stop.
[No dream should ever be this realistic, being cock-blocked by my father. This part of the dream gets a little fuzzy. I think I half-woke up and said to myself 'Dammit, if I try hard enough I can fall back asleep and get back to Andrea.' And, technically, it worked.]
I found myself on the first floor of an office complex, alone, with Andrea before me. She was wearing absolutely nothing but a white bathrobe, not even shoes of any type. Most notably, she looked terrified. I develop a hunch I'm not back at her house.
I slowly turn around to see something I was not aware my mind could ever generate.
The kool-aid man was standing there, covered in loosely-fitting still blood-soaked skin. He had two mismatching eyes and a smile as broad as he was wide showing a hideous array of mismatching teeth going in all directions.
He softy and menacingly chuckled. He was going to kill me.
I produced a small-caliber pistol and fired into him twice, only to realize with horror that he regenerated and instantly healed from the wounds.
"Run!" I yelled to Andrea, as I grabbed her wrist and ran up the narrow stairwell.
[As the kool-aid man busts through walls, remaining on the first floor would have proven foolish.]
He had notable difficulty going up the stairs, as we took to our advantage and made it all the way to the top, only to be met with a dead-end hallway.
There was a small room with a somewhat human-sized large safe.
I told Andrea "Try to fit in there." Thinking if one of us was going to survive, it might as well be her.
She couldn't fit in the safe as it was filled with various objects, when to my horror I realized the sound of the Kool-Aid man's struggle up the stairs stopped.
I dashed back into the hallway to notice him standing there, at the top of the stairs. He mimicked his awful growly laugh from earlier.
Without thinking or planning it out, I began to ran at him. He showed a slight look of puzzlement as I jumped into the air, only to have my right boot collide into his side.
He stumbled a bit, laughing at the futility of my hit against his glass-boned body. The hit itself wasn't the objective.
He stumbled just enough to fall down the massive flight of stairs.
When he smashed into a corner, the sound of him breaking made me shudder. It was an awful combination of the sound of glass, flesh, and bone breaking while thousands of gallons of blood spilled everywhere.
Aware of his regenerating abilities, I took no chances as I lunged at him and ripped his face off with my bare hands.
I threw his still-twitching face into the safe and sealed it tight.
Andrea gave me the warmest smile I've ever had the privilege to be aimed at me.
Then I woke up.
-----------------
This dream, is the best example of why I hate dreaming. A horrific combination of abstract, supreme realism, and just about the most fucked up thing your mind can fathom much to your surprise.
And at this point I like to be incredibly thankful I forget almost all my dreams.
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