Stephanie Chisam, 3/16/09 10:18 PM

I pull several lengths of my dark brown hair across the front of my face and proceed to chew on the strands as I reread the article.

‘Man Dead, Woman Injured in Shooting,’ not an unusual scene for Southside Chicago, and not one that would usually make me feel so anxious. Had I not dreamt of the crime two weeks ago I probably wouldn't have even read the article the first time let alone the three times I already have. Every last detail mentioned in the story I already knew about, the time, the location, the look of the alley, make and model of the car the two victim’s were found in.

I remember watching the crime as it was committed. I watched as a young couple sat alone in an alley, what they were waiting on I didn't and still don't know. I could tell they were nervous, apprehensive about whatever it was they were doing. A second car pulled into the alley behind the first. This car reeked of evil and misdeeds I knew what was to come. Two men steped out of the car and walked up to the young couple’s vehicle on either side. They knocked on the window and the man in the driver side rolled his down. My own dread mixed with that of the victims as the the two men began talking and eventually shouting at one another. The woman was scared. She wished she had never gotten involved with her much younger lover. Both men outside the car pulled guns; three shots were fired. Two hit the young man, his life was ended soon after, the woman was hit once in the chest, her life started to fade as the two men ran back to their car and peeled out of the alley. I watched horrified as the woman lay in the car bleeding to death. She passed out, but as soon as she did a miracle happened. The bullet lodged in the woman’s chest poped out of her body, the wound closed and shut on its own. I woke up in a cold sweat like I always do after this sort of thing.

The report mention’s nothing of the woman’s strange recovery, just that she was injured and passed out when police arrived. They haven’t caught the shooters yet.

I spit the hair out of my mouth and sigh deciding to chew on the tip of my thumb now. Another one of my dreams came true.

I shudder a bit standing up from my computer chair and walking over to my couch easing myself into it pulling my legs up against my chest in the seat. I straiten my glasses to get a better view as I stare off into nothing trying desperately to think about anything but my most recent dreams. Those horrible red eyes…

I shake my head again, not allowing myself to think on them. I haven’t even told Johnny about them yet and I tell him about all my dreams. These ones are… different, I do things in them; things I would never do. But, some how, deep down, I know I will.

Maybe I should tell him, but then again he would just worry, and he worries enough about his own problems with out me adding my own. He’s been doing some weird things as of late. At first I thought it was all in his head, but I believe him now, I know somehow he is telling the truth.

Where the hell is he anyways? I grab my phone and flip it open. 10:32 and still no word. He almost always sends me a text when he leaves the shop. He’s a bit compulsive about that sort of thing. I send him a message asking him if he’s alive, I tag an “LOL” on the end so he thinks everything’s ok.

I lay back on the couch and grab the remote turning on the TV, I flip through the channels eventually stopping on adult swim. I don’t even watch really, my mind is stuck on those red eyes that have been invading my dreams so much as of late. Those deep red eyes…

I sit up suddenly, startled when my phone chimes. It’s Johnny. His text reads, “alive, not good, being followed, phone might not be safe… Shit someone’s at my door. Will call later.”

Followed? Oh Johnny, what have you gotten yourself into? Or is it all in your head again?

I sigh and start to type out a response, but stop at the last second. I’ll just wait for him to call.