Understand My Dreams

Dreams tripe

I'm sitting on the stairs on my grandma's attic with an autistic kid maybe 2 or 3 years older than me. Blonde hair, green eyes, blue and white striped polo shirt, and tan shorts with a ton of large pockets. I don't know him, but I feel that he's important. A short man maybe as tall as me jogged pass us up the stairs panting, "Quick they're coming!" I know what he means, airplanes that drop dangerous bombs and fighter jets. I grab the autistic boy's hand and chase after the man, climbing another set of stairs that never really existed in reality. I look back and say, "We might need to turn around and go down." However I keep going up, ending up out of the house in a field. I had never been there before. Taking the boy's hand we run in the open and I see the jets circling. I see a set of bleachers, knowing somehow a person is going to save us and come in a plane to take us to safety. I see hundreds of innocent people climbing the bleachers. Standing there waving their arms. Looking for hope. Me, the boy, and the man are a hundred yards away from the bleachers. Then I see the bomb dive into the bleachers. Bodies are thrown everywhere. In front of me a hole opened up acting as a tunnel into a laboratory, we run in seeing all the scientists. They all in unison say, "Everything is ok." I turn around and the boy is gone. So is the man. As if they disappeared. I leave the laboratory and sit in the grass, holding my legs. Rocking back and forth, then I feel calm as if nothing happened and that everything that happened was all just a game.

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