a journal of dreams ❥

The Three Doctors

I remember being outside in a rather hilly area. It appeared to be fall; the sky bragged a deep tangerine as it bid farewell to the setting sun. Faded, crunchy autumn leaves bustled along the ground as the soft breeze paved the way for their journey. I was alone. At first.

I seemed to be in the vicinity of a public mall, although I can't quite recall. There was a tall parking deck to my right and small McDonald's stand to my left, nestled peacefully in the middle of a small courtyard. It was the most abnormal placement for something so normal. Never had I ever seen a McDonalds the size of a child's lemonade stand. Yet there it was. Whether or not someone was present has seemed to escape me, but alas it was there.

At some point in the dream I found myself with my family. We were all walking together in the parking deck, headed for the elevator. I remember being very young in this dream, the face of innocence.

I ended up shooting forward ahead of my family, and making a beeline for the elevator by myself. A means of escape? The elevator had just welcomed a few passengers so I slipped between the crack right before the doors slid shut. I turned around just in time to see my family, looks of horror written across their faces as they ran toward me.

But it was too late.

I was on the right side of the elevator, gazing lovingly at the large array of silver buttons on the wall, each promising an exciting new adventure to the mind of a child.

At some point, my eyes explored the rest of the elevator, only for me to be stricken by what I saw.

Three middle-aged doctors stood before me. They towered over my frail frame with a strange lankiness to their stance. I remember being afraid. There was at least one woman, I cannot remember explicit details about their appearance, only that their eyes never left mine.

They inched toward me, warning me not to be afraid. As they got closer and closer, realization dawned on my ignorant soul that these people did not mean well.

Closer... and closer...

And all I remember from the end is that I died.

Gone. Just like that. Murdered, in a horrifically brutal way.

*

When I was younger, around my preteen years, I had this very strange yet symbolic dream that has stayed with me my whole life.
I've never taken a moment to comprehend what it might mean until now.

And yet I've got nothing. The only thing truly symbolic about this strange dream is the number 3. There were three doctors that killed me. Three is a symbolic number in the Bible. Creepy... but I refuse to believe this dream meant nothing.

Perhaps I will figure it out one day. Or maybe it's just an episode from the twisted part of my mind.