Dreams are all but mirrors of our reality...Dreams are surreal, crumpled bits and pieces of sometimes familiar scenes put together in an imaginative fashion. But can they have an effect on reality? Let's take my story, for example.

One night, as I slept, I dreamed of going to a market with my mum. Now, while the place seemed familiar, I knew that I had never been there before and that my mum did not sell tomatoes there. But in my dream, she did, and I felt used to it. I played around, ignoring my mother's constant reminders not to stray off and not to go too far.

The scream-on-top voices, blaring honks, and the wretched stench of smog and mud made the market come alive. It felt....real. But, of course, it always does. I was so focused on my mother's stall, hoping that she would be too busy to notice my intended disappearance, when a hand shoved me from behind. I stumbled forward but didn't fall. I jerked my head quickly to catch sight of the person who committed the act. I saw a boy running away. I didn't see his face. I saw his blue shirt, his muddied footwear, and his oblong head.

What about him seemed familiar, I know not, but I chased after him. I chased him through the inner market till I reached the busy road. He ran across the road like it was nothing and went into a mosque. I didn't even think and followed him, my mind plotting possible scenes of revenge. I pushed open the door of the mosque and was welcomed by a flight of steps. I raced up breathlessly, keeping my eye out for any sign of the intruder.

There were many rooms. I looked hard at all of them, even though they were empty. Nothing. Disappointed and scared, I turned around to head back when I saw him run across the doorway." There you are. Hey, stop!!" The stairs had disappeared by the time I ran out of the room in hot pursuit of this....person. In its place was a long narrow hall, a single door, and a bed. I chased after him, not willing to let him out of my sight again. Just as I was about to reach the door, a hand, crooked and dark with terrifyingly long nails, creeped out from under the bed and grabbed my legs.

I felt a tiny wince of pain as I fell to my face. I looked back at the hand, but there was nothing there anymore. Anything that happened after that has escaped my memory, but I did notice something after I woke up later...Four vertical stripes stretched along my right leg, exactly where I had felt the hand hold me.

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