brimstonenfire_rain
Wonder of U
- Jul 13, 2023
- 37
I had been taken hostage in a vast shopping center; now the structure was divided into two zones: one for local residents and the other for tourists. It all started when the shopping center was stormed by individuals dressed militarily, armed, all wearing red fez-like hats. They threatened us and gave us instructions while keeping the tourists separated, free from threats.
I was confined to the residents' area, and the strangeness of the situation was amplified by the fact that among the thousands of people at that moment who were in my part of the shopping center taken hostage, most of them I knew or, at least, their faces were familiar to me. The atmosphere was tense, and the sense of guilt and responsibility weighed on me, as if I had taken on the moral obligation to free everyone from that imminent threat of death.
However, we were more or less free to roam around our part of the shopping center because, compared to the kidnappers, we were in a clear numerical advantage, and all exits were blocked. So, along with an acquaintance (an old childhood friend), we embarked on an exploration through various parts of the shopping center, desperately searching for an escape route. Every staircase, elevator, and corridor led to nothing. The emotional weight of navigating the structure increased as I encountered all the people I had seen at least once in my life who, for some reason, I felt obligated to save (the sense of responsibility I felt towards them grew, as if I had publicly declared to undertake the commitment to help them get out of that situation to avoid them being killed, but I don't remember ever telling them anything like that).
We reached a room that seemed like a kind of infirmary, and beyond the counter, we spotted a man in a white coat. Although I had never seen him before, he seemed to know us and was friendly but at the same time was involved or allied with the kidnappers. In the room next door, right after the counter, we discovered that the man had useful information for our escape. While I distracted the man (we had coffee and started talking), my friend managed to find the codes that the kidnappers had set to block doors and elevators, so he began quickly transcribing them all on a sheet.
Despite the man starting to suspect my friend's delay in leaving the room next to the counter where my friend was, we managed to escape from that position without being discovered, and the tension in the air became palpable. With the sheet of codes in hand, the responsibility to break everyone free increased, but the challenge was immense. The mass of people in the shopping center began to panic, and the awareness that time was running out was inexorable.
It was impossible to distribute those codes to thousands of people under the surveillance of the kidnappers. We decided to separate. My friend had to think about himself and his girlfriend, so he headed towards her with the intention of escaping from an elevator using one of the unlock codes. Meanwhile, my aimless run led me to a desperate search for solutions.
With the situation deteriorating and time drastically reducing, the feeling of helplessness grew. As I frantically roamed through the shopping center floors, I increasingly faced familiar faces who, upon seeing me, railed against me, hurling insults full of anger and fear because I hadn't saved them yet. Anxiety gripped me as I ran between escalators and corridors, searching for an impossible solution.
At the crucial moment, I found myself wandering through the corridors of the tourist area, deserted because all the visitors were gathered in a clothing store, preparing to exit through one of the external doors under the kidnappers' directives. With the realization that I could no longer do anything for others, the only option left was to preserve my life. So, I thought of blending in with the tourists, trying to leave with them, but the lack of a passport made the exit unsafe (yes, they checked passports to be sure, I understood that without it, they would shoot me on the spot). The idea of hiding among the clothes became my last hope, waiting hidden until everything was over, aware of the persistent risk of being discovered during all that time.
I ran back, and fortunately, I crossed paths with my friend and his blonde girlfriend heading towards the elevator. We reunited with the intention of escaping together. The code worked, and the elevator took us to the foundations of the shopping center, to the ground floor in the unguarded underground parking lots. We stepped outside. I devastated by the thought of abandoning all those people to their fate. Looking at the shopping center on the hill, I turned and, gazing at the sea and the coast, realized that at least I was free. We walked along the promenade, my friend and his blonde girlfriend in front of me, united like any couple. I walked behind, we crossed paths with some kidnappers along the walk. We were calm, confident that they wouldn't ask questions because we looked like ordinary tourists.
We reached the end of the promenade where an open-air elevator awaited us, which would take us to another part of the country, safe and sound, away from any threat (don't ask me what kind of elevator it was). We entered, and my friend asked me to enter the code to start the elevator. I didn't remember the codes well, as I hadn't personally noted them. So, I asked something like, "What was the code, 1214 or something?" My friend, smiling, jokingly replied that I hadn't learned them yet and proceeded to enter it himself. As he was about to enter the code, someone outside signaled to stop the elevator and quickly joined us. At that moment, strong doubt and fear overcame me. When he entered, I noticed that this guy had the same facial features as the kidnappers, although he wasn't wearing a military uniform and didn't have the hat. My doubt turned into terror when this person demonstrated knowledge of the correct code by entering it without saying anything, "1255".
I clearly realize what is about to happen, and you can't understand how I felt at that moment. The elevator doors close, and I, terrified, feel the instinct to clench my fists and thrust them forward (in all this, my friend and his blonde girlfriend are very calm, immersed in the intimacy of that small elevator, while the guy in front of them is agitated). Until he pulls out a knife and starts stabbing the shoulders of my friend and his girlfriend, who screams, I scream too, in a panic, desperately trying to do something. In a moment of frenzy, I grabbed the knife blade in an attempt to stop him, and I feel the blade cutting into the palm of my hand. So, my friend and his girlfriend collapsed to the floor. I slumped against the elevator wall, crying without a voice left in my body. The guy stopped the elevator, opened the doors, and started slashing me on the arms. I began to scream in desperation, then he ripped off a gold bracelet I had on my wrist, then quickly exited the elevator, looked at me with a sadistic smile, and went back in fast. He grabbed my right arm and, with the knife, began to cut my forearm to the bone (or at least a very deep cut), screaming in pain as the arm oozed blood, the sensation of the blade sinking into the flesh, cutting it, was so real.
I woke up in terror, but the sensation I had just experienced was so intense and realistic that once awake, I had to pull up the sleeve of my pajamas because I still felt my arm dripping with blood.
I continue to wonder how it is possible for a dream to make you live such an intense and realistic experience that, theoretically, dreams shouldn't make you relive events already experienced? How could the sensation of the blade cutting into my forearm and the viscosity of the blood flowing along my limb be so vivid and tangible?
If there are experts here, or anyone who would like to provide an interpretation, I would be happy to read it.
Feel free to ask additional questions, perhaps about specific details I may have forgotten to mention, I will be happy to answer.
If you want, write your dream experiences below.
I was confined to the residents' area, and the strangeness of the situation was amplified by the fact that among the thousands of people at that moment who were in my part of the shopping center taken hostage, most of them I knew or, at least, their faces were familiar to me. The atmosphere was tense, and the sense of guilt and responsibility weighed on me, as if I had taken on the moral obligation to free everyone from that imminent threat of death.
However, we were more or less free to roam around our part of the shopping center because, compared to the kidnappers, we were in a clear numerical advantage, and all exits were blocked. So, along with an acquaintance (an old childhood friend), we embarked on an exploration through various parts of the shopping center, desperately searching for an escape route. Every staircase, elevator, and corridor led to nothing. The emotional weight of navigating the structure increased as I encountered all the people I had seen at least once in my life who, for some reason, I felt obligated to save (the sense of responsibility I felt towards them grew, as if I had publicly declared to undertake the commitment to help them get out of that situation to avoid them being killed, but I don't remember ever telling them anything like that).
We reached a room that seemed like a kind of infirmary, and beyond the counter, we spotted a man in a white coat. Although I had never seen him before, he seemed to know us and was friendly but at the same time was involved or allied with the kidnappers. In the room next door, right after the counter, we discovered that the man had useful information for our escape. While I distracted the man (we had coffee and started talking), my friend managed to find the codes that the kidnappers had set to block doors and elevators, so he began quickly transcribing them all on a sheet.
Despite the man starting to suspect my friend's delay in leaving the room next to the counter where my friend was, we managed to escape from that position without being discovered, and the tension in the air became palpable. With the sheet of codes in hand, the responsibility to break everyone free increased, but the challenge was immense. The mass of people in the shopping center began to panic, and the awareness that time was running out was inexorable.
It was impossible to distribute those codes to thousands of people under the surveillance of the kidnappers. We decided to separate. My friend had to think about himself and his girlfriend, so he headed towards her with the intention of escaping from an elevator using one of the unlock codes. Meanwhile, my aimless run led me to a desperate search for solutions.
With the situation deteriorating and time drastically reducing, the feeling of helplessness grew. As I frantically roamed through the shopping center floors, I increasingly faced familiar faces who, upon seeing me, railed against me, hurling insults full of anger and fear because I hadn't saved them yet. Anxiety gripped me as I ran between escalators and corridors, searching for an impossible solution.
At the crucial moment, I found myself wandering through the corridors of the tourist area, deserted because all the visitors were gathered in a clothing store, preparing to exit through one of the external doors under the kidnappers' directives. With the realization that I could no longer do anything for others, the only option left was to preserve my life. So, I thought of blending in with the tourists, trying to leave with them, but the lack of a passport made the exit unsafe (yes, they checked passports to be sure, I understood that without it, they would shoot me on the spot). The idea of hiding among the clothes became my last hope, waiting hidden until everything was over, aware of the persistent risk of being discovered during all that time.
I ran back, and fortunately, I crossed paths with my friend and his blonde girlfriend heading towards the elevator. We reunited with the intention of escaping together. The code worked, and the elevator took us to the foundations of the shopping center, to the ground floor in the unguarded underground parking lots. We stepped outside. I devastated by the thought of abandoning all those people to their fate. Looking at the shopping center on the hill, I turned and, gazing at the sea and the coast, realized that at least I was free. We walked along the promenade, my friend and his blonde girlfriend in front of me, united like any couple. I walked behind, we crossed paths with some kidnappers along the walk. We were calm, confident that they wouldn't ask questions because we looked like ordinary tourists.
We reached the end of the promenade where an open-air elevator awaited us, which would take us to another part of the country, safe and sound, away from any threat (don't ask me what kind of elevator it was). We entered, and my friend asked me to enter the code to start the elevator. I didn't remember the codes well, as I hadn't personally noted them. So, I asked something like, "What was the code, 1214 or something?" My friend, smiling, jokingly replied that I hadn't learned them yet and proceeded to enter it himself. As he was about to enter the code, someone outside signaled to stop the elevator and quickly joined us. At that moment, strong doubt and fear overcame me. When he entered, I noticed that this guy had the same facial features as the kidnappers, although he wasn't wearing a military uniform and didn't have the hat. My doubt turned into terror when this person demonstrated knowledge of the correct code by entering it without saying anything, "1255".
I clearly realize what is about to happen, and you can't understand how I felt at that moment. The elevator doors close, and I, terrified, feel the instinct to clench my fists and thrust them forward (in all this, my friend and his blonde girlfriend are very calm, immersed in the intimacy of that small elevator, while the guy in front of them is agitated). Until he pulls out a knife and starts stabbing the shoulders of my friend and his girlfriend, who screams, I scream too, in a panic, desperately trying to do something. In a moment of frenzy, I grabbed the knife blade in an attempt to stop him, and I feel the blade cutting into the palm of my hand. So, my friend and his girlfriend collapsed to the floor. I slumped against the elevator wall, crying without a voice left in my body. The guy stopped the elevator, opened the doors, and started slashing me on the arms. I began to scream in desperation, then he ripped off a gold bracelet I had on my wrist, then quickly exited the elevator, looked at me with a sadistic smile, and went back in fast. He grabbed my right arm and, with the knife, began to cut my forearm to the bone (or at least a very deep cut), screaming in pain as the arm oozed blood, the sensation of the blade sinking into the flesh, cutting it, was so real.
I woke up in terror, but the sensation I had just experienced was so intense and realistic that once awake, I had to pull up the sleeve of my pajamas because I still felt my arm dripping with blood.
I continue to wonder how it is possible for a dream to make you live such an intense and realistic experience that, theoretically, dreams shouldn't make you relive events already experienced? How could the sensation of the blade cutting into my forearm and the viscosity of the blood flowing along my limb be so vivid and tangible?
If there are experts here, or anyone who would like to provide an interpretation, I would be happy to read it.
Feel free to ask additional questions, perhaps about specific details I may have forgotten to mention, I will be happy to answer.
If you want, write your dream experiences below.
