It wasn't unusual for me to wake up in my bed while still dreaming, but I really didn't like it. Every time that I awoke in a dream from some sort of sleep, it would signify the beginning of an extreme nightmare. Still, it helped that I knew that I was only dreaming. I opened my eyes and sat up on my dream-bed, looking around the dream world my mind had created for me. Nothing seemed too evil or strange about this one, except for this one thing: I could see only in black, white, and red. Red seemed to be the only color that stood out, I noted, staring at my bare feet and the bright red slippers beside my bed.

I left the shoes there, then shuffled tiredly into the bathroom. I went through my usual morning routine, then as I was brushing the tangles out of my rapidly drying hair, I stared closely into the mirror and noticed that I couldn't see myself. I touched the glass, as if to wipe the condensation from it, then I found myself in a different place all of a sudden. My hand was still on the cool glass of a mirror, but through this one, I could clearly see my bathroom. I looked around and knew that this most definitely was not my bathroom. I removed my hand from the glass, then replaced it. Nothing was happening- it was quite clear that I wouldn't be going back the same way I came in.

As I knew I would be here a while, I took in my surroundings in the hopes of figuring out where I was. There was a rack of clothing here, a pile of shoeboxes there, and deep blood-red carpeting beneath my bare feet. I realized, with a start, that I was in a department store. I walked about a bit, and soon I noticed that there was no one around. This was bothering me, so I headed to customer service to ask why I was alone, or to see if the store was closed. I looked around for any signs of life, but there was nothing but the sound of me.

I reached the Customer Service desk and kept an eye out for employees, not watching where I was going. My bare feet stepped suddenly into a puddle of something wet, and I groaned. Now my feet were wet and nasty, and I'd have to stay like that for the remainder of this nightmare. I looked down and saw that I was not standing in something normal like water or spilled milk. I was standing in a puddle of blood.

I rapidly backed up until I was away from the puddle, and then noticed something I hadn't seen before- my best friend Alaina laid on the counter, a knife in her heart, blood running down her arm and dripping off her fingers into the large river of blood I'd just walked into. I was freaked out by the sight, so I ran out of the store through an open door into the street. The sight there was worse- everyone I loved was present, killed in different ways and their cold white bodies strewn along the road. I couldn't help myself- I vomited on the black, blood-soaked pavement in my disgust.

I walked down the street, shocked by the brutal killings. I closed my eyes for a moment, then when I opened them, I saw a little note tucked into the slit throat of my sister that had not been there before. I felt my stomach churn, but despite my body's protest and my own instinct to run away, I took the corner of the note and pulled it out. Delicately, I unfolded it, avoiding any part with blood on it. Written in spidery handwriting on the note were these words: 'Guess Who's Next?' That scared me even more, because now I knew I wasn't alone, but in a worse situation: I was alone with a killer.

I started to run, desperate to find my bed. Whenever I found my bed in a nightmare, I always woke up in reality, completely unscathed. Still, I was beginning to doubt that escaping my mental hell would be possible this time. I'd never had this nightmare before, but knowing my mind, I would have it again. Nevertheless, I continued until I saw my bed- occupied by someone, and with the figure of a man lurking over the sleeper. I snuck forward as quietly as possible, then I noticed that somehow, I was in my own bed... Yes, that was definitely me- dark brown hair, tan skin, silvery-blue nail polish visible on the hand that stuck out from under the blankets.

Wait, how could I see blue? I could only see black, white, and red before... I forgot all about that when the man turned to me, and I gasped, suddenly much more afraid than before. He was tall and thin, dressed in white jeans, a torn blue shirt, black combat boots and a long white trenchcoat. The hem of his jeans and of his coat were wet with blood. In his right hand he held a meat cleaver, soaked with and dripping bright red gore. He started walking straight towards me, splashing through blood puddles, and I knew that he knew that I was here. I backed away as he got nearer, and I ended up with my back against a wall and my feet covered in blood. As he got closer, i could find no escape, so I stopped trying to flee. I got a better look at him as he drew nearer and nearer, and saw that it wasn't just his shirt that was torn- his chest and face were missing pieces. The tear in his chest revealed what could have been a heart- a pulsing blue light in the area where a real heart belonged. His right cheek was gone, showing his teeth and making him as if he was grinning eternally.

His eyes were covered by the fedora he wore on his silver hair, so I couldn't see them. When he was about a meter away, I curled up on the bloody pavement and started to cry. This was all too much... I looked up at him, and from my position on the ground I finally saw his eyes- two blue lights were in the sockets, but there were no eyeballs. The man knelt beside me, then delicately placed the edge of his cleaver on my neck, marking a place with a thin line on my neck with the blood of my family on the blade. He then raised the cleaver high above his head, and as it came down to meet with my neck...

I screamed and awoke, sweating bullets and startling my whole family awake. My mother walked into my room, and I ran to her and cried in her arms.