I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was going to get into a whole bunch of trouble that day. You know the kind of day where you had a dream during the night, and that dream sets your mood for the rest of the day? It was like that, except I couldn't remember the dream. Which made it worse, because it felt like if I could remember my dream, the bad stuff wasn't going to happen to me. But if I didn't remember, something bad would happen. And it would all be my fault. You know?
So I get up, and I'm tired, I mean like, really tired. And then I'm stuck in front of the mirror brushing my teeth, and I ended up just standing there with the toothbrush in my mouth for twenty full minutes. So I didn't have time to shower. It was like my mind hadn't even turned on yet, it was still just feeling the dream that I couldn't remember. And then like a crack of a whip, my mind realized I was now running too late to be able to shower.
It was when I was on the bus that I realized that I was going to get into trouble. That a bad thing was going to happen and it would be my fault. It was in my chest you know? Like, deep down in my chest, but it also felt like I could touch the feeling and make it tangible in my hands. But I couldn't make it tangible, and that made the feeling get worse somehow.
So then I go to work, and I keep on edge for my whole eight hours. I try my best not to let anything happen, I keep my conversations light and short with my co-workers. I dread every moment with my boss, but she seemed fine so no trouble was going to come from her or work. But I still couldn't ease up.
On the bus ride home, I knew I had to remember the dream soon, or it would all be over. I knew that. And yet...I couldn't remember it! I was flying into a panic, that's for sure. I don't mind saying, I was flying right into a panic.
I got home and took a shower, it felt great, I was totally relaxed. When I heard a noise outside my door. Like the front door slamming or something. But it was hard to be sure because I sing pretty loudly when I'm in the shower, so that mixed with the sound of the water rushing, it was too hard to tell. But it was a pretty distinct slam.
I was probably just being paranoid, that's what I figured. I was just being paranoid because of the bad feeling that I had had all day. That said though, I heard it again. Swear to God, heard it again! So I quickly hopped out of the shower and locked the door. The shower was still running, so I walked back to it and turned it off, and started to dry myself off. Feeling safe because of the locked door.
I live in a small bachelor pad, the main door opens and you can walk straight to the kitchen with my livingroom/bedroom to the right. The door immediately to the left is my tiny bathroom. I can barely sit on the toilet, but that's because I need to get rid of my hefty gut. It's hard when you work in an office all day. And you have a thyroid problem.
I kept on feeling like I could hear someone in my apartment. So I started to cry, because I didn't want to die like that. I didn't want to die as some fat guy in his towel. All just because somebody did a home invasion because I couldn't remember a fucking dream. So there I was, crying, blubbering really. Too afraid to open the door.
In a moment of angry, desperate courage, I burst the door open flailing the lid of my toilet around. Screaming at the top of my lungs. My towel, slipped off and caught on the corner of my couch. And I fell face first in to my own toilet lid.
I woke up in the hospital. Apparently a neighbor heard me screaming and called the cops. I was unconscious. When I woke up, I told them that I had suffered a home invasion.
In reality, something bad did happen. And it was all my fault. And in a sense, it was all because I couldn't remember a dream.