Oneironaut Zero: Dreamwalker Chronicles

03/03/2011
"Beachfront-line"

I was with LS. She had come over to chill, and we got to talking. Conversation was heading down the road to sex, and we were soon making out in bed. It was late, though, and she was getting tired. She said she would have stayed, but she had more errands to run, before the night was over. While she got ready to leave, I walked out into the rest of the house. I was now in my old house in Lake Mary. My parents were here, and they were up, late at night, apparently snooping around, trying to see what I was up to. One of them told me that I had to clean of the back porch - really fighting for it, because I think I was supposed to do it earlier, but didn't. So...I did, and trudged my way back into the room door I'd just come out of. By that time, LS had passed out. I don't remember whether or not I woke her up to go to wherever it was she had to go.

The next morning, LS, some other friends and I were preparing for a huge house party, on the beach. I can't remember whose house it was, but I think we were helping to host. Early on in the afternoon, some static broke out, between BM and a group of Latin roughnecks. BM was completely amped up, and was ready to about kill all of them. Those of us who were responsible for the party moved in and restrained all of the would-be fighters. I had pulled the guy who BM was facing off the most with, off to one side. He tried so hard to get at BM that I thought he was going to turn around and come at me, to get loose (which is funny because, in waking life, I once restrained BM back from a fight and I thought he was going to attack me, to get loose). We ended up driving all of them out off of the premises, and they vowed that they would get some payback on BM later.

Just before sundown, we'd had a little something to make the night more enjoyable, and were waiting for it to take hold. LS told me that she was worried about those guys from earlier coming back. Even though we didn't really believe they would be coming back, we thought it be best if we got an understand of what kind of weaponry we had at our disposal. I never actually saw myself with a gun, but I just 'knew' that I had a 9mm, so I went searching around for extra 9mm bullets, but I didn't find much. Not soon after we began our hunt for inventory, the other crew descended upon the party, guns blazing. They just started slaughtering everyone with automatic gunfire. There was 0 chance of fighting these guys off, with the weapons that we had. Trying not to get pinned down, I ran across a wooden walkway, exposing myself just long enough to feel two sharp thumps against my side, stumbling off of the rear walk and onto the moist, beachside sand.

I had been shot. Twice. Behind me, everyone scattered in all directions, trying to get away from the unchallenged gunfire. I clutched my side, running parallel to the beach, down the line of beachfront properties, about four houses away from the one where the good times had just gone bad. Stealing a moment to try to gather my wits, I ducked away on someone's back porch, a few yards of sand separating myself from the sea. The skies were a dull, late-evening purple - the blueish-black of night just beginning to bleed onto the canvas. I looked over into the glass door to my side, a middle-aged man happening to glance over at me, simultaneously. For a moment, I thought he was going to be a problem, but he wasn't. We simply exchanged a rather awkward glance. After a few moments, I knew that I was going to have to get back to the house. I had figured the gunmen would have left the scene by now, and I had to check to see if there were any survivors that needed help. Still afraid that the gunmen might have lingered around for a little too long, I made my way back down the beach.

When I got back to the house, my 'close friend' (can't recall if it was someone I actually know in waking life. I just had that feeling of "close friend" in the dream) drew an AK-47 on me, just as I walked through the door. He was so furiously pissed at my having run from the massacre that I was pretty much convinced he was about to finish me off, himself. Whatever was to be the case, I was not about to stick around and find out. In that short moment of confrontation, I had assessed all I needed to know: any survivors were now up and walking around; LS was still alive, and was standing near the back of the room; and I was now in another life-or-death situation.

The last thing I remember is this 'friend' firing wild pot-shots at me, as I hauled ass away from the house.