Dreams are weird. Some people say they don't dream, but they're just liars. Well, actually, they're not. They simply don't remember their dreams and come to the conclusion that they never actually dream.

I am not one of those people. I do dream. I dream a lot. They're all nightmares. I never wake up screaming, panicked, and covered in cold sweat, but every time I wake up, I am aware that I witnessed something horrible. I don't get bothered by my nightmares that much, since I can separate dreams and reality well enough to not be scared.

However, this isn't a nightmare.

The raspy grunts and slimy, rotten fingers creeping all over my sleeping body laying on a large tree branch were very real.

I had woken up just a few seconds ago, and currently I was trying to figure out what was happening as I tried to pull my hands free without making any strong movements. I had no idea what was going on, and it was best to not do anything rash before I did since currently I hadn't been damaged in any way, and there were no negatives to observing the situation except for the uncomfortableness.

This mindset changed completely when a hand reached up and grabbed my face, with one finger invading my mouth. The wrinkled flesh covering the finger was loose, and shifted around when it came in contact with the insides of my mouth.

The moment that happened, my teeth that were closed together opened and a bit down on the leathery finger that was hooked on my cheek. What followed was the horribly raspy and painful screams of the thing I bit the finger of. The taste of the finger, which I had bitten off, was a mix of chunky rotten milk and metal with a buttery flavor.

Immediately, my cautious and focused expression was replaced with one of unbearable disgust, and I immediately spit the finger out.

By the time the finger was out of my mouth, the things grabbing me had gotten more agitated and their hold on me had been strengthened. That did not stop me from escaping though, and after ripped myself free from their grasps, I jumped up to my feet and looked down.

Oh, what a sight it was.

As I had expected, I was dealing with some sort of undead people. There were hundreds of them and though they were probably not very strong, their numbers weren't something I could handle alone. It was best to simply move locations, and keep avoiding them for the rest of the night. Assuming this thing would last only for the night.

As I stood in the branch which the undead had trouble with climbing on, the taste of the finger still lingered in my mouth, so I did the most sensible thing I could think of and spit on the undead below.

There was no effect, since the undead probably weren't even intelligent enough to know what had happened.

Seeing their reaction, I decided to move somewhere safer and climbed onto the top of the tree from where I could jump onto another one after the undead reached the top, which they would eventually since they were climbing on each other and their numbers didn't seem to be on the smaller side.

While waiting, I tried to get rid of the foul taste in my mouth by spitting it out.

"Huaaak... ptu."

***

Finally, after a few minutes the undead had reached the top, and I got a better look at them with the assistance of the light provided by the moon and stars which actually existed here.

The undead were creatures that were just skeletons with filthy skin and compact muscles on them.

I looked around in the search of the next tree I was going to jump, and after I found one that looked to e fairly easy to jump on, I jumped. It was hard to jump from on top of the tree, but I managed it just fine with my balancing skills.

After I made it onto the top of the other tree, the undead kept climbing the tree I had stood on a few seconds ago.

'Can't they sense that I'm not there anymore?' I thought confusedly.

I had expected them to get down and start climbing the tree I was currently standing on. However, the undead kept climbing the same dream.

I waited until they got to the top, and noticed that I wasn't there, but to my surprise they didn't react in any way. They just kept climbing. But there was no tree left. They were climbing on each other.

'Huh? What is going on?' I thought as I watched the undead shove others down in an effort to get to the top.

When they had ascended a few meters above the tree, the tower made up out of the undead started to lean towards me.

'They're trying to reach me!' I thought and quickly looked for a way I could escape, but it was hard to see in the dark and I didn't remember there being any branches I could land on near here.

Then the tower of undead leaned to the point of falling completely. I figured that one at the tip of the tower the only one that could actually reach me, so it was best to deal with them on top of the tree I was currently on.

With these thought in mind, I readied myself to kick the undead quickly enough for it to not be able to react.

Then the moment came, and I twisted my body clockwise and kicked the undead on its left cheek with the bridge of my left foot while trying to balance on my right foot, which was very difficult since the tree shook because of the movements.

Stolen story; please report.

But even with all the challenges, I succeeded.

My kick landed before the undead could react, and it flew to the side while I managed to keep my balance. At least until the undead behind the one I kicked tried to grab me, but failed and hit the branches of the tree I was balancing on his way down to the ground. The tree shook profusely and in spite of all my efforts, I failed to keep my balance and my foot slipped.

'No!' I thought, overwhelmed by panic, and tried to grab something as a last ditch effort. Unfortunately, the branches were hard to grab and even harder to hold onto.

I failed to land correctly and fell onto the ground, swarmed with undead. Nevertheless, I recovered quickly, and after stabbing and kicking the undead that rushed me after my fall, I managed to make my way into an area with less undead.

My plan was to get up into the trees before I was mauled by the undead.

However, once I got the chance to jump up, I was yanked by my leg and fell onto the ground after a failed jump.

'Huh?'

I was sure there were no undead close enough to reach me when I jumped. Then I looked back and found a single hand reaching up from the ground. Soon, another hand emerged, and an undead climbed up onto the surface.

The undead lived inside the ground!

I tried to jump again, after getting some distance, but the same thing repeated, and this time, after I fell, hands emerged from the ground to hold onto me.

In panic, I severed the hands which had grabbed me, and tried to figure out what to do. I was once surrounded and couldn't get back into the trees.

The undead were approaching me from all sides at a walking pace, but I couldn't do anything.

The nearest tree was too far. It was hopeless. More undead emerged every second. There was no way to survive.

Then again, a pair of hands grabbed my feet.

'No, it can't end like this. I can't die. I won't. Never. I don't want to. There is no way. I can't. This is too far. Way too far. I won't stop. My arms and legs still work. I won't lay down and die. Not until I get what I want,' my mind was flooded with thoughts full of determination, but there was an underlying emotion behind every thought that threatened to take over. That emotion was fear.

My expression twisted as I ripped my foot free and crushed the hand that was holding my foot, and the other hand let go too. Then a hand touched me from the back, and before I knew it my self, that hand was flying in the air, severed by the dagger in my hand.

I got into an unorthodox position and rushed into one direction. My hand and feet moved at record speed as I slaughtered everything in my path with minimal contact with the ground to not get caught. I observed everything around me and every time a hand tried to reach and grab my, I either avoided or severed it.

My aim was to make it to a high ground again, but with constant interference it seemed almost impossible. If I concentrated on jumping, my defenses would be down, and I would get grabbed. It would probably be possible for me to reach a place where there were no undead yet, but even if I did, history would repeat itself. I could have tried climbing instead of jumping, but I was sure I would get caught and be done for.

In conclusion, if I wanted to survive, I would have to spend the whole night fighting.

***

I had been constantly fighting for many hours at this point, but the night was still dark. I was mostly unharmed, but my stamina was running low. I had never fought for this long in my life, so I was not in a condition that fit my circumstances, but complaining about that wouldn't help, so I kept fighting.

My body was screaming, but I could not stop. I needed to survive. Just a little longer and I would survive. My body had to understand that.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem to.

My body refused to move faster, and I could no longer put any force into my movements.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed me and pulled into the middle of the undead. I was too tired to fight any longer, so there was no resistance as the undead bit and ripped parts of me and started to pile on top of me.

This was it. I was going to die. There was nobody here to help. No, there was that one man. Would he help me? No, of course he wouldn't. Why would he? Maybe he was already dead. For some reason, thinking that he had died before me, made me feel better. I was truly a bad person. This was probably the best death I could ever have.

The feeling of getting your skin ripped apart was painful. I wished that it would stop. Couldn't I die already? It had been a long and painful journey, and even after everything, I couldn't even get a peaceful death.

What a terrible ending to a terrible life.

Then the pain stopped, and I found myself facing the floor of my facility residence that had numerous drops of sweat on it.