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House M.D. is my thing. I like Star Wars. The Fault in Our Stars...ugh.

Message to Readers

This is based off of a dream that I once had, and I later added onto it. So if it seems off and out there, it's because it is.

Log Cabin: Dream Based

March 6, 2015



There was a log cabin illuminated by the light streaming outside from the window. There are no trees or any type of shrubbery anywhere. Total darkness; except only one street lamp illuminates a rusty looking truck that is white. There is an Indian boy standing with his back faced to me standing next to a man who is beside a tow truck. They are both looking at the white rusted truck. I walk over and face them.

“Why are you towing my truck?” I ask. They both look at me and the tow truck man has a dark look in his eyes as he places his hands on his hips. The little Indian boy starts running towards the log cabin and is silhouetted by the light streaming from the windows as he stands there and watches me. Someone else that I haven’t seen yet starts to run. I can hear the crunch of the gravel under the person’s feet. Then I feel a cool wind on the back of my neck and I turn around. The tow truck man is in an attack position, crouching, a woodcutters axe at the ready. He looked like he’d already swung it.

Sweat beaded down his face that was covered in dirt and he was breathing heavy.

Next, I reach into my pocket and pull out a curved weapon, swinging it at the man and slicing open his jugular vein. Blood spilled as he fell to his knees, croaking as bubbles spewed from the slit. Then the boy started to run, but ran towards the wall behind him like he was lagging in a video game and had nowhere else to go. His eyes were large as I approached him, and then I reached behind me and pulled out a silver gun, cocking it and then shooting the boy in the kneecap.

I was shocked. Why had I shot that boy in the kneecap? He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? Other than running like a badly designed video game?

The Indian boy fell to the ground, holding his knee in pain and crying out. The hole was large, and there was blood dripping down his leg and it was all over his hands. He held out his bloody palms.

“Look what you did to me!” he shouted. I looked up and there was an old man in the window, staring at me. He pointed at me, and then chucked his thumb behind him. He wanted me to come inside.

I looked all around the cabin. There were no doors and only one window; the one the man stared at me from. I went over to the window where he was still standing.

“How do I get in?” I asked. “How?” His threw his thumb over his shoulder once more. The Indian boy had now disappeared and so had the body of the tow-truck man. There was only the tow truck and the rusty white truck. I went to touch the window, and when I did, the entire cabin wall disappeared. There were only three walls to look at now, and everything was dark. No lights were on except for the light that the moon gave, giving everything around me a gray and black eerie shadow.

“This is definitely a dream. It has to be,” I said.


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  • March 6, 2015 - 9:11pm (Now Viewing)

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