There was a hole on the rooftop. Some light rays were oozing out of it. I got closer. It was a man-sized hole. There was a lit room underneath. I climbed down. Two women were on their toes, creeping about. They saw me and gasped. The next moment they were hurrying away, one slid under the bed, another one vanished elsewhere. A few moments later some noise came from another room. I followed that sound. It was one of my friends from high school. A few more of them appeared, talking to each other in a jovial manner. I suddenly had an epiphany, they were robbing the place.

More of my friends came pouring out from all corners like ants from a colony. Some of them I never talked to since 5th grade. Some I lost forever. Some are more recent. For robbers, they were quite chilled. As if they were at a party or something. I saw those two women from earlier, talking languidly. I recognized them then. One of my friends was collecting money for a picnic. He sounded excited. I felt a bit embarrassed. I didn't have any money on me. Should I tell him I had other plans?

Suddenly the door blasted open. A few people pointed their guns at us.
"We got them.", one shouted menacingly. "Cuff all of them. They are done for life."

I froze. This couldn't be the end. I thought about explaining. But I was there, wasn't I? What hope was there for any rebuttal? I thought about attacking the policemen and running away and knew intrinsically it was a foolish idea. I was distressed by all these turmoil and forced myself to be awoken. It was a dream after all. In a half-asleep reverie, I felt somewhat assured.

I couldn't bring myself to write anything today. It is not like I lack the topics to write on, no, that is not the case. I usually maintain an inner schedule and the topics are planned ahead. The day felt drowsy and slow and everything looked mundane and uninteresting.

In introspect, I realized, perhaps the dream I had this morning probably left some of its marks. I don't remember most dreams. The ones I do remember are the ones I don't want to remember.

The earliest dream I can recall vividly is the one where I got shot. I was in my teenage years and the dream had space battles. Spacesuits with laser guns. Projectiles of those guns were light beams. Like Star Wars. However, they bent, reacting to gravity. One of those beams hit me in the upper shoulder. It burned like hell. I never got shot in real (and don't want to, thank you very much) but that particular dream got imprinted deep in me. Perhaps I was a bit proud of it as well subconsciously.

But no, these nightmares are not the worst ones. The worst ones do not have guns or monsters. They have regular people. People that are no longer in my life, not I am in theirs. Some only contain ideas I'm ashamed of or do not want to explore.

I remember that song by Gary Jules, 'Mad World'.