Since I was a kid, I’ve always had my nightmares come true. I would dream about getting my ass kicked during recess, about losing my favourite toy, about my hamster dying.
Without fail, they would all come true, sooner or later. I caught onto the pattern quickly. Trying to avoid the situations I’d dreamed of proved to be useless.
Whatever I did, the dreams seemed to find me, my waking life copying the nightmares to the detail, or at least close enough.
The first time I found out how to deceive fate, I was 11 years old. I had dreamt that I fell of my bike and broke my arm.
That morning when I woke up, I pushed my bike into traffic, and watched it get run over by the passing cars. Now I had no bike, and no way to fall off it and break anything.
I learned to take fate in my own hands.
The older I got, the worse my nightmares got. I miss the days when I dreamt of little things. Nowadays, my dreams are getting more frantic.
It seems as if fate is trying to get ahead of me, because now all I see is new ways I might die. But I’m catching up. Every time my visions open a new door, I am there to close it.
I sold my car efter dreaming that I’d die in a car crash.
When I one night saw myself falling down the stairs of my home and die from the head trauma, I burnt down the house and moved in with my aunt. No matter what, I find a way.
I cut down all the trees around our part of town so that none of them could crush me on my way home. I threw out all of my medications so that I won’t accidentally get the wrong dosage.
One time, I dreamt that I caught an infectious disease from my aunt, so I disposed of her. I am in control.
Last night, I saw myself die from lung cancer. I saw how my life was conquered by this seething mass in my breast, how it slowly crushed me, spread into my body.
I already went out and got new painkillers this morning. Now I just need to find a fitting knife. One day, when I’ve closed every possible door, I will be immortal.