I Watched My Future Unfold in a Dream

I used to love sleep

It was the only place the world didn’t chase me. No bills, no pressure, no unanswered messages. Just darkness, rest, and silence.

That changed three weeks ago.

Now I fear the night more than death itself.

It started with a dream. Or more like… a vision. So vivid it felt stitched into my bones when I woke up.

In that dream, I stood outside a small white house I didn’t recognize. It was raining hard, but I wasn’t wet. I wasn’t even cold. I just stood there, staring at the door, feeling something horrible pulsing inside the walls.

Then the door creaked open by itself. Slowly. Silently.

Inside, it was dark. But I could see the outline of someone lying on the floor, motionless, a pool of something dark spreading beneath them.

I tried to move. Scream. Run.

But all I could do was watch.

Then I woke up gasping, my shirt drenched in sweat, and my hands shaking like leaves in the wind

I brushed it off as stress. A nightmare. Maybe from the true crime podcast I fell asleep listening to.

But the next night, it happened again.

Same house. Same door. Same body.

Except this time, I got closer.

I stepped inside. The air was thick, like syrup. Every sound echoed too loudly. My shoes stuck to the wooden floor. And the body? It was a man. His face was turned away, but there was something familiar about him.

When I bent down to see…

He turned his head and stared directly at me.

It was me

I woke up screaming. I couldn’t breathe.

My heart slammed like a drum in my chest, and I actually vomited.

It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a prophecy.

Over the next few days, I stopped sleeping. I took caffeine pills. I downed energy drinks. I even tried slapping myself awake. Anything to stay out of that house, away from that version of me.

But you can’t fight sleep forever.

Eventually, your body takes over. And mine did. In the middle of a Zoom call with my manager, I passed out at my desk.

This time the dream started mid-scene.

I was already inside the house.

Standing over my own body.

But this time, someone else was there. A woman in a red dress, standing in the corner.

She whispered, “You were warned.”

I turned to run, but the house had changed. The front door was gone. The windows were bricked up. The wallpaper bled ink. And every picture frame on the wall showed me… dying in different ways.

I clawed at the walls, screaming.

The woman stepped closer and whispered again, “You can’t change what’s already begun.”

Then everything went black.

I woke up in the hospital.

Apparently, I’d had a seizure during the call. No history. No warning. Just collapsed. My coworkers called 911. My blood pressure was through the roof. And here's the kicker:

The ER I woke up in? It was the exact layout of the hospital from another dream I had two weeks ago.

Same clock on the wall. Same nurse. Same rainfall against the window.

I’m not crazy.

At least I don’t think I am.

But something is happening. Something I don’t understand. I’m seeing things before they happen. And every night, the dream moves forward just a little more.

Last night, I saw the house again. But this time, someone was knocking at the door.

Not me. Not the woman. Someone else.

And I know I know if I open that door in the dream, I’ll never wake up again.

So now, I stay awake. I sleep in 30-minute intervals. I tape my eyelids to remind myself not to drift.

I write everything down, hoping for a pattern. A clue. An escape.

But the truth is…

I watched my future unfold in a dream. And I think it's already too late to stop it.

If your dreams started predicting your death scene by scene would you still dare to sleep?

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