Judgment Day

I don’t watch many movies or tv shows, at least not as many as most people. The reason I don’t is because I experience lucid dreams most night that Hollywood can’t compare to. I don’t know why I have these dreams, but I have had them since I was a young child, and that’s just the way things are. This story from May 2, 2022, is just one example.


There was a bomb in the building.

Somehow I knew that.

I remember walking into a government-style building that had a parking lot directly in front of it. If you walked into the front doors, went down the hallway to the right, and then took your first left, there was a device on the floor that looked like a boxy, 1970s-style tape recorder, but it was really a bomb.

So I began working with a friend to evacuate the building. He went one way, I went the other.

As I ran around the building, Lori — my friend who died last summer — ran up to me and said in a panic, “He knows everything about you. Everything! You have to run.” I looked at her and tried to make sense of how she was here and what she was saying, but she was terrified and screamed, “RUN!” Then she ran away in the direction I had just come from.

I debated about running after her, but I had to evacuate the building, so I kept moving forward, in the direction she just came from.


As I trotted down the hallway I came upon a large, open doorway on my left, one of those doorways that’s two doors wide. Both doors were open, and as I approached it I could see inside. What I could see was a large seating area, like for observers behind the lawyers in a courtroom. Once I got to the entrance I could see a person sitting a table at the front of the room, facing the front.

Then I saw that behind the table was a huge, grotesque-looking humanoid thing. It was all black and oily, and its shape kept mutating. It wasn’t human and it wasn’t clothed, but its shape was generally human, except that it was at least 2-3 times the size of Shaquille O’Neal. It had no facial features that I could see, just oily blackness.

When I looked at this thing, it turned to look at me. “ALVIN ALEXANDER,” it said in a deep, booming voice that shook the entire building. “COME IN,” it growled, like it was expecting me.

I looked at that thing, tried to make sense of what was going on, and decided that I sure as hell wasn’t going into that room voluntarily. So I continued to run in the direction I had been going, and swept the building to try to evacuate people.


When I got back to the front of the building a female friend was waiting for me, and she said, “We have to go. Now.”

As she said that, we both saw some movement on a bulletin board that was attached to the front wall of the building. We had been working on a poster on that board, and we watched as our poster fell off the board and onto the ground.

We had been working on the poster together, and it was like a large, personal list of things we wanted to do. I don’t know how, but I felt like the big black thing in the courtroom had somehow made the poster fall off the board.

I picked up the poster, rolled it into a tube, and handed it to my friend. I said, “No, YOU have to go. I have to stay.” We hugged and cried for a while. “I love you,” I said, “but you have to go, now,” and I let go of her hand.

I woke up in bed, trembling and shaking as usual.


If you are interested in more stories like this, see my Stories page. Perhaps the story that’s most similar to this one is, I Still Forgive You.