Every now and then, I remember an old unpleasant dream I had, a year and a half ago. Whenever the memory of it pays a call on my mind, I ask myself why. Why, of all the dreams I’ve ever had, this one has stuck with me like tar to feathers? So, without further ado, I share:

It all began with me standing in front of a decrepit farmhouse, out in a desolate field. The night sky was mud brown, almost the same shade as the ragged wooden walls of the building.Surrounding the scene was a team of filmmakers. I could tell by their cameras and equipment. Furthermore, there were lights set up everywhere, which was good. They made the whole place look like a movie set rather than a sinister location.

Two of the filmmakers gathered a group of five strangers, and they waved at me to join them – so I went. That’s when I found out that I was not only part of the group – we were all participants in a reality show. “Remember,” one of the filmmakers told us (the group). “Survive one hour in the farmhouse and you win $20,000!”

I’m not a fan of competition in real life, so this wasn’t an ideal situation. There were questions! Like – what did he mean by survive? I was ill-equipped. Also, what happens if two or more survive an hour in that place? Do we split the money? Before I could ask them anything, however, the other one said: “Go!!”

Fuck this, I thought. The best thing for me to do is hide out somewhere for an hour. So I went around the back of the building, found the bulkhead door to the cellar, opened it – went in – dark as fuck. Then I felt my way around the place until I found an old cupboard to hide in. Didn’t do shit. Just hid there until I heard the sound of an air horn, and a voice booming through a speaker saying:


I crawled out of the cupboard and left the farmhouse. Went back into the field where the filmmakers cheered. “You survived!” one told me. “We didn’t think anyone would make it,” another said in the background. “Look! No sweat, no blood, no tears!”
“If you want to, you can do another hour.”
“What’s in it for me?” I asked.
“An additional 30 grand.”
“Sign me up,” I said.
Easy as pie. I could hide out again, somewhere else.

This time, they give me a new group of participants. We all stand at the entrance of the door, waiting to start the game. An air horn goes off… and at the top of the stairs, a figure emerges. He’s there to kill us all off, one by one. We can see the outline of the chainsaw in his hands. Hear the execrable sound of its engine.

But it’s dark…until they turn on the lights for us to meet our slayer. And there he was – Tom Cruise.
Dressed in a silk negligee with chantilly lace trims.
It’s cotton candy pink… to match his high heels.

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