The Runic Template

Nick handed me a bunch of one-dollar bills mixed with a few fives. The dimly lit street felt eerie, the kind of atmosphere where shadows lurk just beyond the edge of your vision. Turley stood nearby, his figure blending into the darkness, nodding silently.

“We need to head to Fredericksburg,” Nick said, his smile unsettling.

I stared at the crumpled bills in my hand, confusion twisting in my gut. “What’s this for?”

Turley stepped forward, his voice a low murmur. “We have to go now.”

Before I could question further, the scene shifted abruptly. I found myself on the ground, handcuffed with the rest of my AA group. Officers surrounded us, their faces stern and unyielding.

“Stay down! You’re all under arrest!” one officer barked, his voice cutting through the tension.

Chaos erupted as a gang of supers descended from the sky, attacking the officers with brutal efficiency. The world spun around me, a violent blur of movement and noise. Officers screamed, the sounds of battle echoing in the night.

Amid the chaos, a memory resurfaced—a previous dream, equally confusing. An officer from that dream scene stood at an electrically shut door, trying to pry it open. Someone inside yelled, “Why are you guys here?”

The officer’s calm response lingered in the air: “If I told you…”

The memory faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a moment of eerie calm. I opened a door to find another officer standing there, his presence an unsettling contrast to the chaos outside. The room felt innocent, a stark juxtaposition to the violence and confusion.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” I said, my voice trembling with genuine confusion.

The officer’s eyes were unreadable, his silence unnerving. In the waking world, everything seemed so clear, yet in this dream, nothing made sense. Innocence and chaos blurred together, leaving only fragments of a story untold.

I woke up, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding. The dream’s chaotic fragments lingered, challenging my understanding of reality. I whispered to myself, “What just happened?”

Some dreams are meant to be forgotten, but others linger, haunting our thoughts and blurring the lines between reality and imagination.