Perfect Nightmare

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
My dream turned to a nightmare, and I lost my best friend to it.

Submitted: November 06, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 06, 2011




“No,” She said as she walked up to her best friend who was just shot in a fight. “This didn’t just happen.”

One of the police men walked up to her and said “I tried all I can to stop the fighting. I understand that he was just an innocent by-stander.”

“Sir, is he gonna be OK?” I ask him almost in tears.

“Maybe not, the paramedics will do all they can, but the possibility of survival is unlikely.”

“If I’d known this would happen,”

“But you didn’t, they did though. Don’t worry; those men will be put in their place. This is the third time they have shot someone, this is only time, however, that they have been caught.”

“I suppose I should go to the hospital now.”

“You best hurry, his condition isn’t so good.”

Don’t say that, he’s fine, and I know it. I got that sixth sense, I can feel that, right now, he is sitting up in the hospital trying to impress the nurses by saying he was in a gang fight. I wanted to yell at him. I’d say what I thought, no matter how stupid he may think it would sound.




I hear my mom downstairs saying “Zoe, time for school.”

“I am up!” I say in a loud voice. I venture on down the stairs and try to shake off the dream I just had. Why would I have a dream like that? And why didn’t I see the face of the “friend” who was shot? I shake it off, and begin to eat my breakfast.

“Zoe is something wrong?” my mother asks.

“Just a weird dream, that’s all. Someone was killed. No big deal.”

“No big deal” she repeats in a whisper. “That is too a big deal.”

I just explain to her what it was about and who I thought it may have been. But, is she taking this too seriously? Is she thinking that is time for me to have counseling? What? What? I don’t need counseling. I’m fine. Everyone has those weird dreams, you do too, I want to say. But it would make zero sense, because she didn’t even bring it up. I brought it up. I thought of it. It would be my fault if she got the idea. My fault.


I get up and wait outside for the bus. I don’t wanna go to school, just too boring.


As I get on the bus I notice that something is different. I have this weird feeling, like I should’ve done something that I didn’t. That dream is starting to feel more like I lived it. More like I wasn’t there when it happened when I should’ve been. I run off the bus as it stops, no time to think that people are looking at me like I’m a lunatic who’s causing a scene. I just keep on running.

I just stop as if someone told me too. I walk over to Thomas’s house, because I have a bad feeling. Like he was the one who is going to get shot. I know it. I feel it. And soon enough, as if on cue, I hear the first gun shot.

I run up to his door step and even though he isn’t answering I still keep on knocking. I see the gang at the corner of the street, and I panic. At the worst time, he steps outside. One of the guys aims at him, and I run in front of him. I feel the bullet go through me. I was hit right above my thigh.

“Run,” I yell at him. Soon enough he runs and I see him pull out his phone.

“Hello, I have a friend who was just shot and is bleeding severely. I need help right away…” The rest of what he is saying becomes unclear. I am suffering from too much pain. And I’m bleeding uncontrollably. I try to tell him that they aren’t gone. They are still there fighting at one another, and he is going to become part of it.

One of them misses their shot, and they shoot Thomas right through the chest. I am frozen in my spot. I cannot believe what I just saw. I start crying for help, but soon enough, they scatter as the sirens sound. I lay there, with blood on my pants and hands, but I tell them to save him first. They lift him up on the stretcher, and take him to the ambulance. The next paramedic crew comes and cleans me up, and put me on a stretcher too. I am unaware of what is going on, and fear I may be losing consciousness. But I worry more about Thomas though, and what just happened to him. I think and say to myself, you saved him from getting shot the first time, it’s the second time you couldn’t. You did what you can. But you can’t stop the world. Why do I feel like I’m the cause of this accident?


I realize that they are rushing him into the ER first. Good, I think. He is getting the help first. All I need is stitches and some blood to replace what I’ve lost. He needs surgery to get the bullet out and tests to see if something else is wrong. But I’m not thankful that I have the lesser injury. I want it to me who was shot through the chest, and him who only had a shot through the thigh, and nowhere else. Nowhere near… the heart. I start breathing deeply realizing that that bullet may have touched his heart. It may have injured on of his lungs. The doctor tells me to calm down and that everything will be okay.


I hear another doctor saying “Hurry up, we are losing him.” I scream. I say “Don’t worry about me, go save Thomas. He is the one who is dying. Please, please go save him.”

They look at me like I lost my mind. “Your injury is major too. You need help just like he does.”

I freeze, and then say, “NO… It isn’t the same. He shot through the chest. NOT ME!”

“Miss, what you don’t know is that your condition is serious too. You are hurt. YOU are injured; now let me get the bullet out of your leg before you get an infection. If I don’t you may lose our leg. You want that?”

“You don’t get it; I would rather have me lose my leg than him loose his life!”

The doctor sighs, then says, “Nurse come with me, get someone to help you get her to stable condition.” He runs into the room Thomas is in, and I hear him say, “He is gone? Get the bullet out of his chest, close the incision, and make him have a pulse! Stat!”

I cry. I think, Wow, all this happened in one hour, one day, one minute and he may be losing his life. I start crying, and I fall asleep.


When I wake up, they had managed to have gotten the bullet out of me, and stitched my leg. They used some medicine to make me sleep and I didn’t know it.

“I have great news,” says the doctor, but he doesn’t seem to happy. “I managed to get the bullet out, but some of your muscles are going to hurt. Now about your friend...”

“He IS okay, isn’t he?

“I’m afraid you lost him. We did all that we can, but the shot went through his lungs, and they filled up with blood. I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said as she walked up to her friend who was just in a fight. “This just didn’t happen.”

There he lay, in the hospital bed surrounded by his parents and brother. If I had one shot to press rewind and take all this back I would. I miss him already.



“He will be dearly missed,” says the pastor as he ends the prayer for Thomas. Everyone stands up and I walk up to the casket, and touch the present-day Thomas. What happened a few days ago, I feel like it wasn’t him. I walk away, and I feel like a bullet just went through my heart.



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