The Wave

A dream where good things went south far too fast.

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I just had the most terrifying dream last night.

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I was at Ft. Myers beach, and for some reason I was with my grandma and aunt at a restaurant that apparently had really good soda. We were sitting at a table just outside the restaurant on the beach. My seat was facing the ocean, and my grandma’s and aunt’s seats were facing me from across the table.

I was listening to my grandma and aunt having some nonsensical conversation when I saw a fighter jet swoop low over the water and come to a stop. Then it started backing up and turning like it was trying to park, until it was turned so that its nose was facing the water. It dove into the water, but apparently that wasn’t what it wanted because it pulled out, backed up, then flew straight up into the air.

I was confused, but it was a dream, so of course I didn’t bother myself too much with it. I just shrugged it off and continued my conversation.

Then, without any warning, the jet rocked down into the water and blew up in a cloud of smoke, water, and debris. I watched in shock as a tsunami-sized wave erupted from the spot the jet had gone down and headed towards the beach.

I stood and pulled my grandma and aunt out of their seats, and told them we needed to go. The three of us started running, but we barely made it into town before the wave overcame us.

Everything became the wave. All I knew was that I had to survive and, more importantly, my family had to survive. As the wave was dragging us through the town, we passed by a tall fence and I grabbed on. My grandma and aunt grabbed onto my legs as they passed by, and after quite a bit of struggling, I managed to push them towards the fence so they could grab on as well.

We clung to the fence for dear life. I did my best to grab anyone who passed by and pull them to the fence, but I couldn’t get everyone. Most of the people, I couldn’t grab, and as they were dragged away, I knew they wouldn’t survive.

Some of the people who I couldn’t save were friends, and some were children. Those hurt the most.

After a few minutes, the wave passed by and the ground dried out. We sat there for a moment, trying to catch our breaths, before we all stood up and started stumbling about in different directions. I headed towards my house with my grandma and aunt, afraid that my parents might not have survived.

When we got there, our house still stood relatively whole amongst the rubble. I pushed open the door, which was partially destroyed by the water, and stepped into my house.

I was immediately bombarded by a huge hug. My parents and I cried in each other’s arms, then they did the same with my aunt and grandma. They explained how they had been sticking pictures to the wall in the corner when it happened. They told me they were afraid either I wouldn’t make it or they wouldn’t make it, so they spent what might have been their final moments taping the words “help, hope!” to the wall.

For some reason, that made complete sense to me, and I was so happy that they cared enough to do that in what might have been their final moments. Luckily, they had survived, so it didn’t matter.

My grandma and aunt went down to the basement (which somehow hadn’t flooded) to rest in the bedrooms down there. When they were gone, I asked my parents if my brother knew what had happened. They said they had no clue. He was still at college, and they hadn’t called him yet to tell him.

I had apparently lost my phone in the wave, so I found my dad’s phone and called my brother from that. When he answered, he nonchalantly said, “Hey, what’s up?”

I sighed in relief and put the phone on speaker so we could all talk to him. I asked him if he knew what had happened in Ft. Myers, and he said he’d heard something happened, but didn’t know what.

So I told him the story of what happened from the start of the dream. When I finished, he seemed panicky but calmed down when I told him we were all okay. I left when he started talking to my parents about something or other that I didn’t care about.

I went to the window and looked outside. I looked at all the people stumbling through the rubble that now made up the town. I thought of all the people that I hadn’t managed to save. I felt a tear slip free of my eye.

Then I woke up.


Picture source: DoSomething.org

The Small Town by the Sea

When I wander into a small town, strange things happen. And I’m not even me! (Recounted dream)

Before I begin, you must understand that my memory is very spotty and vague. The faces and names have blurred and I can’t differentiate who was who. How I wandered into such a place is a bit vague as well. However, at the very least, I can explain what occurred in that little town next to the sea.

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It was an average day, sometime in late Spring or early Summer. The air was neither warm nor cold, clear nor clouded, lively nor dead. It was the most everage day that could exist.

And I was the most average boy you’d ever seen. I wasn’t weak nor strong, tall nor short, skinny nor bulky. I didn’t even have a very memorable face. And the car I was driving was even less memorable than I was. A beat-up silver Contour, with rusted edges and a broken AC. Nothing special, nothing unique.

Well, as I was driving, I got the bright idea to climb out the window and hop into my friend’s car, which was driving in front of me. Which friend it was, I can’t remember. All I know is they let it happen.

For some odd reason, I expected my car to follow us all the way to where we were going. I didn’t expect it to keep going straight when we turned and go off a different exit to us. I turned to my friend driving the car and told them to stop so I could get my car. They did, and I hopped out on the side of the road and started walking back for my car.

I was lost within seconds. The road we’d just driven down didn’t lead back to my car, and the road it did lead to was empty. No cars, no life. Well, I had no clue what to do, so I just kept walking.

It was a while before I saw the town on the waterfront, and at that point, I wasn’t going to question anything. I was exhausted and just wanted proof that I wasn’t the last human alive.

I reached the town and knocked on the door of a house. They let me in without question, and I sat in their living room as they went to the kitchen for some coffee to warm me. As I waited, I stared out the glass windows that made up the back wall. There was a small sort of river right behind the house that led out to the sea, with acres of woods on the other side of it. On our side of it were a couple of acres of grass. Most of it was flat land, but there was a steep slope leading up to our house and I couldn’t help but wonder why.

Then I saw it. A horde of animals coming in from the right, walking across the land alongside the river in a pack of more than a hundred animals. But the size of the pack wasn’t the most surprising part. It was the animals themselves.

At the very front of the pack, a tiger and a sheep walked side-by-side. Following them were a mixture of bears, rabbits, dogs, wolves, zebras, buffalos, lions, and I could even make out an elephant in the throng. They didn’t look at me, just continued to move in one large pack.

Just then, the owner of the house I’d found myself in came back with my cup of coffee. I asked her about the pack, and she told me they walked by at least once a week, usually more. They’re spirit animals, she said. They tell people their destinies.

I asked her what she meant, and she laughed like I was an ignorant child. She explained that everyone is given a riddle of sorts early on in their life that describes an important moment that will lead them to their destiny. It’s supposed to help you follow the correct path to become who you’re meant to be or get to where you’re meant to go. She said this all like it was quite obvious.

I looked back out the window and a flash of light filled my vision. It only lasted a second, but as soon as it cleared, I saw a bear standing in the middle of the river. It was waist-deep in the water, standing on its hind-legs. And it was staring right at me.

I dropped the coffee and lept to my feet. The lady gasped and pressed herself to the side of the room, muttering something I couldn’t make out, but I didn’t stick around to find out. I turned and bolted out of the house.

The bear was on my tail in a heartbeat, chasing me through the streets of the small town. We raced through the town marketplace, and the town’s people must have been used to this because they knew exactly how to get out of the way as to not get trampled. I knocked over a booth in the bear’s path in an attempt to slow it down, but it seemed nothing could hinder it.

Finally, I reached the town center, which just so happened to be a very large government-type building. A short set of stairs led up to a small walkway along the second floor, where all the doors were. I took the steps two at a time until I reached the walkway, then crouched and peered through the bars lining it.

Another flash filled my vision, and there was the bear at the bottom of the steps, staring up at me with predator eyes. I returned the stare, and a million voices filled my head with strange whispers. They were hard to understand, but I made out something about six days and seven lessons, a girl with white curls, a hidden power, and a city far away.

Then the voices were gone, and the bear and I were staring at each other once again. The bear roared, and something in my mind clicked. My skin prickled and I roared right back. The bear closed its mouth and watched me for a moment. I knew I looked exactly like it. The hidden power was an ability I hadn’t known I had to shapeshift.

We stared at each other a few moments more. Then it turned and lumbered away.

The rest came in flashes. A large room decorated in the Victorian style, with an oak desk filled with secrets that I can’t remember. Another flash, and the bear appearing in the same room in front of a row of glass windows. A conversation with a lion in the middle of the river. Running into a girl with white curls at a university, begging her to help me, and only convincing her when I bring up the bear and she remembers her own destiny. Racing through trees as a wolf. Another town far away, a battle in a cavern, and cleaning up the aftermath.

And I remember throwing some sort of pendant into the river, then leaving the small town for good.


Picture source: Bears in the Woods Products

Whaler of the Stars

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In the night, I sailed through the skies
As a whaler of the stars.
My giant harpoon glinted in the moon
As I hunted near and far.
I brought them down in packs or alone.
There was nowhere to hide.
I sold them to merchants. They wanted more.
I was happy to abide.
The brighter they were, the better the price,
So brighter stars I downed.
I was always kind. Their deaths were quick.
They never made a sound.
I kept a collection of the brightest stars,
The alpha of each drove.
They were my trophies, my spoils of war.
The treasures of my trove.
All was well for quite some time.
I was rich in every sense.
But, strangely enough, my people grew angry
And argued my offense.
They told me my work was darkening the skies.
True, but it lit their homes.
They said what I did was destructive and wrong.
This cut into my bones.
“How dare you blame me for such wrongdoing!”
I yelled, angry and shocked.
“You egged me on, encouraged my work!
Bought each time I docked!”
But the people cared not what I had to say.
Someone had to be blamed.
So as I pulled into port the next time,
I found the end to my reign.
And as I floated in waters turned red,
Drawn in by a glinting harpoon,
I saw a night sky as black as fresh coal,
Lit only by the moon.


*(Note: I wrote this based on a dream I had. It literally happened exactly as I described it, and it was insane. And yes, it had just as much depth to it as I described in this poem. Yeah… Sometimes my dreams are a bit… Haunting.)

Picture Source: This is actually a digital art piece called Sailing Through The Night Sky by a man named Andy King. He’s pretty darn talented. Check him out here!

My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.

The Endless Hospital

As well as a failed trip to somewhere and a fight for my life. (Recounted Dream)

A few nights ago, I had a really weird dream.

Understand, when I have a weird dream, it isn’t like other weird dreams where the randomest things happen. In my strangest dreams, not everything makes sense, but there is some order to everything.

So this dream started off in a hospital parking lot. Except, it wasn’t a normal hospital. This hospital had no end. It wasn’t very tall, but in either direction, it disappeared into the distance.

There were cars in the parking lot, but a large rectangular area the size of a football field was clear and my Color Guard was practicing on it. No band, just the Guard.

The really weird part about the Guard was that it wasn’t a mismatch of people like you normally see in a dream. I recognized each girl as a girl who was or had been in the same Guard as me in the past. I even recognized my main director, and he acted exactly as he would in real life.

So during a break, I grab two of my closest friends and we go for a walk. We end up in an area of the hospital that, thinking back on it, looked vagueally like a pure white version of the outside of my school.

We enter the hospital and find ourselves in the entryway of a large waiting room, which is entirely filled but mostly quiet. Some people in the room are injured, some are sick, some have crying babies, but all are just waiting. Doctors and nurses enter and exit, but the room never clears.

My friends and I don’t stay long. When we exit, I bring up how I’ll have to leave our Guard trip to Ecuador (or Florida, somewhere tropical) early so that I can meet my family in China.

I don’t know why the whole Guard was taking a trip to somewhere tropical, and I don’t know why my family was in China or why I had to meet them there, but that’s what was happening.

So my friends tell me I’ll have to let our director know, and I say something along the lines of, “Of course! Actually, we should go right now.”

We get to the part of the parking lot we had been practicing on, only to find everyone taking the last few things they need or packing their bags.

I go up to my director and let him know the situation, and he says it’s fine, but I’ll need to be careful because he’s in charge of me so long as we’re on the trip. I agree to be careful, and we get going.

I turn around, and suddenly we’re in the airport. Everything is noisy and chaotic. The Guard is running around in a million places at once, getting their luggage checked in and getting their tickets and finding their passports and going through security, and it’s just crazy.

And then I realize, I need to leave to meet my parents in China right away. Somehow, I guess I’m already through the gate because I start pushing back through security, yelling over my shoulder to my friends that I have to go.

Then I’m racing through the airport with no idea where to go, no ticket, and only my backpack because I left my luggage behind. Yet I keep running. I don’t stop until I realize I’ve lost my passport, and only then do I feel lost and defeated.

I turn around and find myself in the library of my high school. A different close friend of mine stands with me, looking upset. Other people sit randomly around the room, all with pale faces and sunken eyes.

My friend tells me they’re sick, all of them, and there doesn’t seem to be any way to help them. Fear for them starts to fill me, but I know I can’t give up on them.

I step forward towards someone sitting nearby, and suddenly I’m in the middle of some hollowed-out tree. I turn around and can see the outside world: clear skies, green grass, but it looks more like a painting than reality.

I turn back around. Around me are five paths. One wide one directly in front of me, two narrower ones on either side of it, and two narrower one to either side of the outside world/painting.

I choose to go down the narrow path to my left, the one next to the wide one. I head down a set of stairs and find myself in a room with three paintings like the ones in a Mario game I used to play, where the paintings led to the different worlds.

Then I heard a laugh and turned around to find this stage, and on the stage one of those platforming Mario games was playing. And standing in front of the stage was Bowser. He was the one who laughed.

Somehow, I know Bowser was the one who had caused the illness of all those people, and I knew he had to be stopped. But I was just me.

He started attacking me and I did my best to fight back, but unlike the usual thing that happens where you become some ulmighty, powerful hero in the face of danger, I was still just me. I had no powers or strength or speed. I had nothing.

It was a hopeless battle and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop. There was no point to stopping. If I stopped, I would get sick and die like everyone else. If I kept fighting, Bowser would kill me.

I knew I was going to die, so I just kept fighting. And then I woke up.

I don’t know how the fight ended exactly, but my guess is I lost.

 

 

Red Skies and Black Seas

A repeated dream that turned into a nightmare. (Recounted dream)

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So I’ve been thinking about dreams lately for a lot of reasons (which I will not go into), and I keep thinking about this dream I had two nights in a row when I was really little.

Well, actually, it was more of a nightmare.

The first night I remember rather vividly, and I remember being entirely unafraid. The next night, when the dream came up again, it was a continuation of the first night. However, the second night I was terrified and woke up with tears in my eyes.

I’ve always wondered about this repeated dream/nightmare, why I had it and why the two nights were so similar yet so different.

So here’s what I remember about them:

The first night started off simple enough. There were no adults, just by brother, two cousins and I (to learn more about them, check out this post).

My younger cousin and I were in the little blue wagon my family kept down in Florida at the time, the one my parents used to pull us to the beach in. However, in the dream, my brother was the one pulling it, and my older cousin was walking beside it.

The path we were moving on appeared endless at first. It was a narrow, beaten dirt path with black trees void of leaves lining either side. The sky was a deep red, sort of like the moment the sky is brightest before the sun sets, but the whole sky was that shade and the sun was nowhere in sight.

I think we were talking about something, maybe about how long the trip was or where we were going. I never remember specific words, just the basics of conversation and scenery.

Finally, the end of the path appeared at the bottom of the hill we were on. We reached it in no time and found ourselves at the edge of a wide expanse of beach. The sand was its normal golden hue. The sea was a distance away, churning with dark waves. They were’t completely black, but rather just darkened by the night.

Built on the sand a short ways away was a giant mansion, or maybe a modernised castle. Actually, I’d compare it to the mansion on the island in “And Then There Were None“.

In fact, as I think about it more, I’d compare the entire dream to “And Then There Were None”.

I remember feeling relieved becuase we finally made it, though I don’t remember if I was relieved that we made it there or that we made it anywhere.

We approached to the entrance of the mansion, and a steriotypical butler opened the door as we neared. He bowed to us and led us through the main parlor, which seemed endless in its size. I could see a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, but I couldn’t see the ceiling.

That’s when we split apart. My brother and older cousin were led away somewhere, possibly to their rooms, and I remember calling out to them, begging them not to leave me, but they ignored my pleas and led their two younger siblings behind.

My little cousin just sat there, looking around and playing with some toy. I saw some food sitting on a table and brought him something to eat, but didn’t eat anything myself. I know I was starving, I remember the hunger, but I wanted to save the food for my brother and older cousin when they returned.

But when no one came for a long time, I started wondering. I don’t think I got lost, but I know I never found my way back to that main room, nor did I ever run into another living soul that first night.

I wondered into the basement at one point and found myself staring at a furnace or something similar. At another point, I found my bedroom, which was lush and fit for royalty. I think I ran into a different butler at some point, but he was pale and I knew he was dead, or rather undead. I believe he brought me to the kitchen and gave me food, but I didn’t eat. I saved it for the others, for when I found them.

And I remember, just before the dream ended, I reached the highest tower in the mansion. It was a perfect circle, and every wall was lined with glass windows, so I could look out in every direction. In one direction I saw the dark, dead woods we’d entered from, as well as the edge of the dirt path. In the other, I saw the dark sea churning. And everywhere in between was an empty expanse of golden sand.

I woke up with no fear. Actually, I was a bit upset that it ended where it did because somehow I knew there was more to the story. The next night, I went to bed hoping I would have the dream again, but actually finish it that time.

I should have heeded the warning “be careful what you wish for”.

The second night began where the first left off. I was in the tower room, looking out through the glass, but this time, I saw a group of people as small as ants walking onto the beach.

I immediately raced out of the tower room, down the spiral steps and through endless hallways, searching for an exit. Before I could find one, I stopped in a rather small and sparce room with no windows. I was alone in the room with only my grandmother on my mom’s side. She smiled at me and I ran straight into her hug.

This is where things became whisps of memories. I think I’ve tried to bury the memories, hide them in the back of my mind. Everything I saw from that moment on was terrifying and traumatizing.

My grandma and I left the room at some point. I think we were looking for someone. After a while of walking, there came a reason for us to split up. I watched as my grandma turned the corner and was gone. I was sad and scared and tried to chase after her, but when I turned the corner, she was gone.

A lot happened after that. I started running. I ran to find places, to find people. I chased after people and lost them. I ran away from things that scared me. Nothing ever attacked me. In fact, the only people or things that seemed to see me were my many family members, who all cried out to me for numerous reasons.

The only people who didn’t cry out to me were my brother, grandmother, and two cousins. And the only reason they didn’t cry out to me was becasue I never saw them again.

Everything is a blur until the ending two scenes. In the first, I’ve finally found an exit and walk out onto the beach. I see my mother and start walking towards her. I don’t run, though. After everything that happened, I’m nervous, but I want to get to her. She doesn’t see me at first, instead staring off at the black sea.

I’m stopped halfway to her as a skeletal hand bursts through the sand. I don’t react much, just stop and watch in confusion.

My mother, however, snaps her attention to the hand. Her eyes widen. She looks at me and starts to scream for me to run as hundreds of hands burst out of the ground and claw for purchase, tugging out their skeletal bodies.

My mother screams as they begin grabbing at her, tearing at her, trying to suffocate her or drown her, trying to kill her.

I take a few steps forward, tears streaming down my cheeks as I search for a way to help, but I can’t. So, instead, I run. I run back into the mansion, through the endless hallways and rooms, until I find myself back in the tower room.

As I look out through the windows, the waters rage and swell. The red sky seems to burn the trees. I can see the path we entered through, but small black shrubs are starting to grow over the entrance.

Littering the beach and mansion, I can see every traumatizing scene I had witnessed. I can feel the warm tears streaming down my face, but I can do nothing to stop it all.

The dream ends with a man appearing before me. I can’t remember exactly what he looked like, or even if he was a man at all. All I remember is that the figure was cloaked in swaying black, and as I looked at him, I felt completely defeated.

Then I woke up crying, immediately trying to wipe away the terrible memories from the dream.


 

Picture Source: WallpapersXL