Last night’s dream was one of the worst I’ve had in a while. It’s becoming a pattern now—my nightmares always take me back to that apartment building on Summer Street. I’m either trapped there, trying desperately to leave, or battling the overwhelming feeling that I can never go back. In every dream, the world outside is a disaster—storms raging, skies heavy with unnatural darkness, or some strange military force creeping just beyond the horizon.

What makes it even stranger is that, in my dreams, I can drive. It’s funny, really—I don’t even have a license. But there I am, behind the wheel, navigating through chaos, as if it’s second nature. Last night, I was trying to get my family to safety, only to discover our destination was a water park.

The water park itself was surreal, teeming with noise and movement, but my focus was on two babies I suddenly had with me. They weren’t just any babies—they were mine, and I felt an intense, primal need to protect them. Everything else blurred into the background as I tried to shield them from the chaos.

Then came the twist. Someone I’ve loved deeply was there, too. At first, I thought he was there for me, but then he brought someone else—a woman he introduced as his girlfriend. My heart sank. “No, this can’t be right,” I told myself. But it was. He admitted it, casually tossing out the fact that they’d been together for years, like it wasn’t a betrayal. The pain in that moment was raw, almost unbearable, even though I knew it wasn’t real. It felt real.

The dream unraveled further, morphing into something even darker. The last thing I remember is wandering through what felt like a hospital—or maybe it was Ramapo College. The place was a labyrinth of hidden rooms, endless staircases, and shadowed corners that seemed to breathe unease. The people there didn’t feel safe. They watched from the edges, their presence heavy and unsettling. I kept running, searching for a way out, but the dread followed me, clinging to my skin like cold air.

And then I woke up, the heaviness still lingering in my chest. That feeling of running, always running, stayed with me. But what am I running from? Or, more importantly, where am I trying to go? It’s like my subconscious is screaming for answers, but the questions are so deeply buried, I don’t even know where to begin.