Short Stories with Tragic Endings

I am in a sort of culdesac neighborhood. I am walking down the street and I see a house with three
posts in their yard. I go over to them and for some reason decide to take them out of the ground and
move them. I move each one over a few feet to a patch of mulch. I then walk away fearing that I will
be seen. I walk up the street a bit then back. I glance over at the house and I notice three people
sitting on the front porch. Had they been there all along? It is a father and two sons. I see them get
up and decide it would be best to get out of the culdesac. The father goes across the street to a white
house and then tells the sons to go after me. I run down the road and, as if there is some sort of
game screen change, I am in an alleyway of a large town. The streets are thin and surrounded by
ten foot brick walls on either side. The sun casts a golden light on the whole town. I run through a
labyrinth of 6-foot side-streets joined by a 15-foot road. It is very complex and confusing but somehow
I know exactly where to go. I come out onto an intersection of two major roads. I forget about the boys
chasing me and remember I have to go to class. I see a friend from college and she asks me what time
it is. I reach in my pocket but my phone is not there. I can feel it under a few layers of clothing though.
I realize that I'm wearing two pairs of shorts and I reach into the pocket of the shorts underneath and
pull out my phone. She says "What would you do if you had lost it?". I say that I would have to look for
it. "How long would that take? 12 minutes?". I say "More like 21". I flip it open and find it is dead. I look
at the top and it still has the date and time and such in faded gradient and glitchy white text. I put my
phone away and just say its dead. The next thing I know I am in the room where the "class" is. It is like
one of those little pre-school rooms. I am in one corner of the room talking to another friend from
college when the teacher calls us over to the table. I sit down, my back to the wall closest to the door.
I realize I do not have my bookbag. I hope the teacher doesn't ask for homework. I am sitting next to
another student who doesn't have his either. The teacher turns our attention to the center of the table.
There is a cup of what looks like some sort of salsa. It doesn't have much sauce though. Mostly solid
ingredients. It is somewhat pink in color and looks slightly watery. A girl at the far right end of the table
gets excited. She knows what it is and loves it. She says a name for it over and over again but I forget
what it is. It is in some other language and I think it began with an 'M'. Anyway we take out pieces of
bread and dip it in the "salsa". The girl keeps going on about how sweet it tastes. It doesn't taste like
anything to me. It is really quite bland. The teacher then tells a story about some tragic event and the
girl tells a similar story from her own experience. I think there was another part to this dream after the
"class" but I don't remember.