An eerie atmosphere where blood mixes with the air. Pieces of buildings scattered around the area.
As I look up in the sky.
I find myself questioning if the actions I took were the right ones. As I look behind me, a mountain of grotesque bodies towers about 10 meters.
'Did these people really live just to die, or are they like me? '
Their blood slowly flows to where I'm standing.
I can see their vision, which is nothing but darkness. Their memory of their loved one. Have I ever considered the struggles they have faced to arrive at this point?.
Since that day, when I first got those memories, they still shock me.
I, Kimjo Ho, lived in an apartment where I spent most of the day playing by myself and only went out when I was hungry.
When I was younger, I was always like this. Not because I've been bullied, but rather because I find it difficult to make friends, perhaps as a result of what I go through every week.
When I was a kid, I always thought I was special because I can still remember what I did when I was a toddler. But that doesn't seem to be the case here because those visions aren't mine.
I started having these experiences when I was four, but I can't remember exactly when.
That's the time I started to develop my own vision. Before that, I had a vision that wasn't mine, like the vision of a soldier, writer, singer, etc.
I always thought it was strange and not normal, and I always asked my parents about it, but they just told me I was imagining things because I was still a kid and kids tend to be creative and imaginative when they're young.
While many of these visions are helpful, some of them cause me trauma. For example, having seen what a human looks like inside and some horrible things like seeing a leg get cut off after being shot.
These feel like a curse because they make it hard for me to make friends. Every time I have a vision, it leaves a mark on me.
Here I am, slowly deteriorating from the inside out in my apartment. A 21-year-old man who has been doing nothing but having fun since I lost my job last month.
I look terrible. My beard makes me look like a middle-aged man, even though I still have some of my young face. I look like an old man because I haven't shaved.
It's really infuriating. Even though I have many visions every week, I can't use them or make good use of them because most of them are things I can't explain that came from my vision. Some of the visions are simple, like cooking or singing, but most of them are out of this world.
But even though those visions seem like a dream or story made out of a fairytale. Those visions seem too real, like those experiences aren't just made up; they have a life in them.
I've already forgotten about the other experience because it was so traumatic to see a grotesque creature that looked like it belonged in a horror film.
That's when I start feeling that something is rumbling.
growlll
"Oh, I'm hungry. Let's go out and get some food."
As I opened the door. The view is similar to that of a populated city and an apartment complex in the middle of a neighborhood.
Nothing really that amazing, just your ordinary city.
As I walked down the street, that's when I heard a loud explosion behind me.
booom!
I can see a building site behind me. A car hit that side of the building and blew up, shaking it.
before I could comprehend what I saw. An object flew in my direction.
It split my body horizontally before I could react.
Then I woke up. Those are only dreams.
Arggggg
"Those, dream again."
As I stand up about to