In the first dream I had one night, I was in my house, talking to my landlady down stairs when I realized the house was on fire. I ran upstairs to get my cat, and when I finally found her, I realized that I couldn’t get back downstairs again. Just as I was catching on fire, I woke up.
I got up and walked around for awhile because I was so terrified about the dream I just had; I wanted to stay awake so I wouldn’t possibly fall into the same dream again.
After I laid back down, I started to dream again. This time I was in an abortion clinic (I have NO IDEA why that would be the case) and I was watching a woman get an abortion. I couldn’t see anything, however. Thankfully. Then a man burst into the room carrying a pistol. He was wearing underwear, and nothing else. Tighty-whities, not boxers. He started to wave the pistol in the air, and everyone ran, including me. Somehow everyone else got ahead of me – you know how you try to run in your dreams but you feel like your running through Jell-o? And the guy with the gun started to catch up. And for some reason I focused on his huge pot-belly that was bouncing up and down as he ran after me – gross, but vivid and strangely hypnotic.
I realized I wasn’t going to get away, so I tried to crouch behind a car, but he ran around it, raised the pistol at me and fired….
… and I woke up again.
This makes a totally of 4 dreams that I’ve had about dying…