I run as fast as I can, feet thumping, heart thumping, mind thumping.
I pull the sleeves of my jacket over my hands to prevent them from freezing off.
He's still behind me.
I force myself to move faster, winding pathways around trees and rocks.
I cup my hands over my mouth and my warm breath feels good on my hands.
He's still behind me.
The man chasing me pushes me down with his large foot.
I open my mouth to scream, but no noise comes out.
He holds a gun, and I flinch and close my eyes.
All I hear is a "click," then after a few seconds, a large "BANG!"
But I am not dead.
Who did he shoot? I open my eyes and the man lies there on the ground with a bullet lodged into his skull.
Surely he didn't shoot himself...
I look up, and the boy from the street is standing there, freshly shot gun in his shaking hands.
He sees me and runs over to me, embracing me in a warm hug. He grabs my hands and warmth flows through my veins.
Then, he leans forward, and our lips touch.
My eyes open. It was all a dream. I let out a sigh, half out of relief and half out of sadness.
Sadness because that kiss wasn't real,
Relief because I woke up before anything else unexpected could happen.
Dreams always fascinate me. Where do the visions come from, and why to they choose to infiltrate your peaceful night sleep?
Someone once told me that dreams come from what you think about right before you go to sleep.
I wasn't thinking about a nameless man shooting me before I went to sleep, and I also wasn't thinking about kissing that boy...
Or was I, without even knowing it?
