I've always had strange dreams. Dreams of games I've played too much, or dreams about ideas that I have, puzzles I want to solve. Some of my greatest solutions have been contrived while dreaming. The weird thing about my dreams (since dreaming of your problems and ways to solve them, and then following through with the dream solutions isn't weird enough already), is that the solutions I dream up, the ideas that I contrive, the intuitions about the games I've played: they're always correct. I have literally never been wrong while in a dream.

With that in mind, I really should have attributed greater significance to my one, final dream.

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Since I've become an adult, I sleep in on Saturdays. I didn't really do it when I was a kid, but that's only because playing was more of a priority than sleep. My priorities have changed.

I'd say it's not a huge deal, because on a weeknight, I tend to get between 5-6 hours of sleep, depriving me byt up to ten hours over the days; until Saturday rolls around. That's when I make it up. Oh, nine hours of sleep feels better than you can possibly imagine. Waking up in the morning, feeling the crust in the corner of an eye, still tired, but awake, just lying there with your eyes closed. It is the epitome of contentedness.

Hence my confusion when I awoke with the butt crack of dawn peeking over the horizon, screeching brakes, popping gunshots, and shouting taking the place of the annoying chirping of that particular bird who likes to sit on my chimney and squawk.

I rolled out of bed, rubbing my eyes. I'd probably have cursed and complained if I didn't know for a fact that I could just go straight back to sleep, no problem. It's one of my special abilities.

I pulled back the curtains of my apartment, taking a peek at the raucous neighbors (who are clearly having some sort of wedding shindig). At least, that's what I thought. I couldn't imagine what else could be going on at 5 AM on a Saturday, and most of the gunshots seemed to be coming from next door.

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[Author's note] At this point, I'd like to explain something. It is not prejudicing yourself against someone if you stereotype them.  It is not racist or sexist, nor does it make you an ethnic cleanser to place people of certain 'genres' into respective stereotypes. When people take on aspects of a certain pseudoculture, it is not bad form or prejudiced to associate other aspects of the pseudoculture to that person. It is prejudicing yourself against someone if you jump the gun, and assume that they are a member of a pseudoculture based on aspects of their person that are not, in fact, signifiers of their association to said pseudoculture. I am not perfect. [End Author's note]

These good NYC folks had moved in a month previously. When I welcomed them, I happened to note several animal carcasses that had been stuffed, as well as a bear rug, a gun rack, and a massive freezer that was (they claimed) always full. Well, I live in suburbia, between Akron and Cleveland (in Ohio, you haters). I'm not fond of the idea of having hunters living directly next door to me, but since the Purge probably won't be happening for the next fifty years, I'll probably survive.

I really didn't know what to make of these people. NYC, but guns. And hunting? They seemed to have left the city for obvious reasons (guns, you dillweed), but now they were up at 6 AM shooting things. It must have been a late night for them, and this is just a progression, right?

Wrong. All of this went through my head [Author's note] excepting the Author's note [end Author's note] as I was pulling back the curtains. What I saw was, to put it simply, shocking.

As I peered out the window, I took note of various things, all of which seemed... Incorrect, on some level. First, the fact that the neighboring house was on fire caught my attention. Then that the two eldest siblings were in the yard, gunning down random civilians made its way to the forefront of my mind. Finally, I took note of the youngest daughter, an adorable fifteen year old [Author's note] I make a point of this so that the incongruity is apparent [end Author's note] was running, in a circle around her older brother and sister, screaming with wild abandon, and revving the chainsaw's engine as she held it above her head.

There was a trail of bodies in the chainsaw-wielding maiden's path, and the civilians that stumbled along behind her were quickly mown down by the combined fire of the two eldest children of my apparently completely insane neighbors.

I let the curtain drop. I only had it open for a moment. Less than two seconds, at most. I sat down carefully against the kitchen sink, controlling myself as ably as I could. I failed a moment later. I turned quickly to the side and threw up. After several minutes of voiding my empty stomach, I was finally able to stop. I was shaking and crying, and the exertion of vomiting for minutes on end had me sweating heavily.

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I woke up in my bed, a slight sweat dampening the back of my neck.