Staring Down the Barrel

11th of April, 2024

Although my memory of the details is hazy, I experienced a gruesome and terrifying dream. I was either enrolled in high school or college at the time. After being invited by Rico (my best friend at the time), I attended a party at his classmate's house. As was usually the case in such social settings, I felt uninterested and out of place. So I devised some lame excuse and left the place. It was probably 2 or 3 a.m. at the time. As I was driving on the expressway toward my mother's house, I tried to call Rico. I can't recall exactly why, but I know my reason was valid. Maybe I forgot one of my belongings there or my motor vehicle was somehow malfunctioning. At any rate, he didn't answer my phone call. I suspected he was occupied at the moment, most likely involved in sexual activity with another random chick. I continued driving. After I reached the exit ramp nearest my destination, I stopped at a Citgo gas station to refuel my car. In contrast to the canopy's bright lights, the sky was pitch-black. Suddenly two African-American men stepped out of a yellow sports car (more specifically, a Chevrolet Corvette) and silently approached me. They immediately drew firearms, aimed them directly at my face, and demanded that I empty my pockets. I was overcome by shock and fear. I rushed to hand them the keys to my automobile, my smartphone, and my wallet. But for whatever reason, that didn't suffice. I pleaded for mercy, for them to spare my life. Needless to say, they did not care about my pleas. Before I could even react, I heard a loud crack and was shot in the head. Finally, I woke up from the nightmare and felt relieved to be alive.