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Chronicle of Dreams #3: Deadly Intrusion

Updated on May 21, 2020
Chardie Cat profile image

Chardie Cat is an author and writer from the Philippines who finds it uncanny that he usually remembers the complete episodes of his dreams.

Please Read with Caution

The chronicle you are about to read is a recollection of the events that transpired during my wanderings into the land of dreams. Somehow, I managed to capture pieces of the phenomenon upon my return to the real world.


It was one summer afternoon when the port was smitten by a deluge of indolent people drawn to splurge over beers and wine and food while enjoying the company and banters of friends and co-workers. The weather wasn’t good, so my boss decided to cancel our fishing trip until the following day. Besides, we were doing great business in the past few months.

I thought I was already intoxicated after spending more than six hours in the drinking bout. I could hear different sounds bombinating in my head like the city traffic or the raging bulls. When I went to the comfort room to pee, I saw that fat guy by the urinal. When I came in, he met my eyes with a disconcerting look. He must be irritated with my boisterous hysterics. I looked away, but he welcomed me with a punch on my face. I fell to the floor, spat blood and when I got up, he was already gone.


It was almost dusk when I decided to leave my friends after all the confusing episodes in the lavatory. They were overwrought when they looked at my face bruised and swelling. One even stood up and asked where the culprit was for him to retaliate. But I was too stupefied to give answers to their many questions. After I said my goodbyes, I was supposed to leave when one of my buddies offered to escort me outside of the port. The other guys chorused in agreement for my safety. Inside his car, we were talking about some things. He asked me about how and what really happened. I told him the story. I saw anger in his eyes and he said I will have my revenge.

Outside the port, he decided to send me home. But I refused. So, he called a cab, paid the driver, and told him to send me to an address, my place. I waved goodbye and left. While on the cab, I could feel my face throbbing in pain. After a few minutes, I arrived at the corner of the block where I live so I asked the driver to stop. I got out of the cab and slowly walked my way to my place.


The sky was a bit gloomy, casting shadows to the surrounding. The pain in my face and lethargy made me want my bed so bad, but every step took me like forever to reach home. When I arrived at my house, I took small easy steps up to my room and worked on the numerically coded lock in the darkness. My jaw dropped when I opened the door and noticed new access on the other side of my room. The one who created and placed it there should have tried to conceal it behind a thick blind of a color that blends perfectly with the wall, but the wind bashed it passionately. I dropped my bag to my mattress and walked softly towards the half-closed drapery.


Expecting to see nothing but scraps, my eyes widened in awe when I saw children grinning at me before they went back to their game—running around, chasing each other—as if they knew I was coming. A few meters away from my room was another room with two windows, and its jalousies were partly open. Like a flash of light, the fat guy from the urinal was already at the window with his vicious face and raging eyes staring at my direction. I quickly hid behind the drapery, my heart was pounding like hoofbeats of a horse. A few seconds later, I heard heavy footsteps from the outside and with a bang on the wall, the man was already standing by the door. Then, he intruded and rummaged through my things without dilly-dallying.


I was probably stunned that I couldn’t talk but after a while, I snapped and screamed at him on top of my lungs. He walked out in a hurry without taking anything and watched him enter his room. But I was already fuming. And with fury at the top of my head, I followed him to his room and punched him in the face many, many times until his mouth bled. He spoke but I couldn’t hear or understand, and then he spat blood at my face. I punched him again many times until he tripped over. Looking at the blood on my balled fist, I went out of his room and left him unconscious.

After a minute or two, I heard a woman screaming hysterically. Then she was crying. After a short while, all was in creepy silence. Then I thought, at least I had my revenge.


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