I woke up this morning, sluggishly, from a rather depressing dream.

I was about 10 years old, and I was going down these roads like on the grid of a city, trying to avoid an end I knew was coming.  

There were these bullies I was trying to avoid, and I knew bad things would happen if I ran into them.  No matter what I tried, I couldn't find a path that avoided them.

In the dream, it was like I was able to, or did reset at each adverse end only to try again to avoid the outcome.

The outcome was such that the bullies would catch me, take me down this road leading to their hangout and I would die.  They would be too rough in their bullying and death would follow.

In the dream I remember trying several times to avoid the outcome, even so far as running into one of the box homes along the street trying to get help.  

One home I ran into, this elderly couple just blamed me and believed the older bullies, they were scared.  I didn't blame them.  They also wanted to survive, but I was sad.

They were like the gang of bullies from any of those throwback movies where a good group of kids are up against a group of bullies, except part of the 'back story' of this gang of kids is that they weren't really human.  They were aliens and didn't know how far to take things.

In the dream I remember having the realization that there was no rationalizing with them because they weren't really human and couldn't have empathy.  It was out of their reach to understand.

I remember the desperate hope of thinking I could find a path, a route, that would have me pass the bullies and head on into safety.  I also remember the dawning realization of futility and despair of that endeavour.  That this was a thing that was going to happen no matter what.

I think, to me at least, it's clear that my frustration with how life has us living this thing, in this place, without any way out but death.  It's frustrating to me and I have already dealt with, and sometimes have to wrestle with the concept all over again, that I will cease.  It's a gasp when it happens, and spoiled milk from the inside that crawls outwards from my gut.

I don't like sharing that part of myself, and sometimes I don't understand why everyone isn't trapped in a catatonic state just staring off into the distance.  I don't like sharing that part of myself because I feel like I should just suck it up and continue, which I do eventually, like everyone else.

But sometimes at night it still hits hard, and with dreams like the one I had last night, it isn't easy to shake off the cooling shadow of that lurking giant even after the sun has risen and the 'me' I was in my dream is long faded into a blend of hazy emotions and rough sketches of a person.

In a way, a different kind of tiny death of a person I was, but for a moment in a dream.