The street before me was utterly still and silent as I ran its course, a few spectral lamps being my only source of illumination from the night that settled on the neighborhood like inky, pervasive smog.
“Help, please!” I would occasionally cry out to the looming houses as I passed them by. No answer would ever come. So I ran, on and on, because I knew somehow – though I never dared to look – that not far behind was my nighttime stalker, keeping pace with me all the time.
This is a recurring dream I had as a child, for years on end. The details would change ever so slightly over time, but it always ended the same … my finding no solace from whoever was pursuing me. It is gone now, back to wherever those pernicious bad dreams go, yet the memory of how it made me…
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