Last night, I had the strangest dream. Normally I don’t write about my dreams beyond my personal and confidential dream journal, but last night’s was just…strange.

From the bits and pieces that I recollect, I was a kind hearted person who, in the end, was forced to become an assassin because people were trying to kill me. And to make things even weirder, the people trying to kill me were the people I was initially trying to protect; they were overcome by the “bad guys” (since I’m not entirely certain who these guys were) and their bodies were being used as puppets.

One scene that I remember vividly was looking out the upstairs bedroom window and seeing these people walking toward the house. It was dark outside and there was only the light from the street lights to reveal their guns.

After seeing the guns, I remember grabbing a sniper rifle from one of the people I’d already shot and running down the stairs. Upon opening the front door, I saw this guy walking up the porch — he lunged for the front door as I swung it shot and began to lock it.

I managed to get the lock hitched just in time and just at that moment, he fired a bullet through the door missing me by inches. I fell to the floor and rolled to underneath the window and peeped up to see his position.

He was still in front of the door trying to shot at the lock, so I put one right through his heart. He fell to the ground, but I wasn’t certain he was dead.

Then, a teenage girl who happened to be someone I was trying to protect came walking up after him. She had a gun and she was a puppet. I didn’t want to kill her.

Someone how got inside the house and I’d already run to the top of the stairs to work out how I could protect myself without killing her. I decided that shooting her in the shoulder should do the trick — she’d drop the gun and I’d be able to get it away from her.

Unfortunately, her body was turned at a strange angle so I couldn’t get a clean shot. I laying on the ground at the very top of the stairs looking down at her through the scope and right as I was about to fire, I woke up. My heart was pounding and I was shaking.

Now, for someone who’s only shot a real gun once in her life and found it to be a disturbing experience, tell me that isn’t just a strange dream. Normally I’d chalk it up to playing too many first person shooters, but I haven’t touched on in at least a year. No more of whatever I had for dinner last night, that’s for certain.