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Whoever’s eyes I was looking through, he was walking up my drive and I could see my house

January 8, 2012

I had a dream once, one of those first person shindigs. Now I should point out that I very rarely lucid dream, maybe once or twice in my life, so I’m not very aware in my dreams that something isn’t real. Hell, I’ve dreamt about having a beer with myself and not picked up any signs that that might be a dream.

Anyway, whoever’s eyes I was looking through (I like to think it was John Malkovich’s eyes), he was walking up my drive and I could see my house. He approached the kitchen window and I saw that it was open, so did he. He jimmied it open a bit further and pulled himself into my house. Standing in my kitchen everything is quiet, I can faintly hear my the pipes creeking.

But he doesn’t stand still for long, he sets off out the kitchen and into the hallway. Walking right past my Dad’s office, ignoring any computers or phones or anything that might be worth stealing. He walks to the bottom of the stairs.

To his right is my sitting room, the room that has the most shit worth stealing after my Dad’s office. But that’s of no interest to him either, I’m just staring up the stairs. At a slow pace, with feet on either side of the steps to avoid making much noise he begins to walk up the stairs.

Now at the top of the stairs you have a spare bedroom to your right, a bathroom right infront of you and my bedroom to the left. About half way up the stairs I could see my bedroom door. I pang of fear ran through me as I could see that I had left my door ajar and the glow from my computer would surely attract his attention.

My eyes are fixed on my door now, he eventually reached the top of the stairs. Then, much like he did with with the previous rooms, he completely ignores the spare room and the bathroom. I don’t even look at them. I see his hand reach out at he presses against my door, it swings open.

Now I’m looking at myself. I can see myself sleep, illuminated by the aforementioned computer that’s whirring away in the corner. I don’t look at the computer, I don’t look at the GameCube (this was a while ago), I don’t look at any of the countless items he could pocket and leave with. I’m just looking at myself. He approaches me and leans over my sleeping body. There he stops. And stands. And I stare.

Then I wake up. And, by that I mean I actually wake up. This is no dream within a dream shit. My eyes open, I’m scared and I’m looking at a man with a baseball cap who is leaning over my bed and peering at me.

I can’t move, but thankfully neither does he. I force myself to breathe and, after what feels like an endless amount of time I find the courage to put my hand out. As my hand enters the space that he’s occupying my hand travels through him and his image fades away, like dust caught on the wind, in this deadly still room.

– Posted by samkellett; Reddit

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