I woke up from a bad dream... really a bad, bad dream: A hooded serial killer was holding some sort of meat cleaver in his left hand. He was chasing me though a tight space of leaves and twigs and branches of some old tree in a twilit forest. His hood taken off, I saw his bloodlust. He was cunning. I was as cunning to save myself.
Equally negating his vulpine subtlety, I mustered all the strength that would allow me to copy some callid ninja moves in an old Chinese action movie. However, his agile legs are undeniably faster. Just as I thought, it was only a matter of time. He caught up on me. We wrestled. I tried to remove the cleaver from his grip but the more I deflected it, the more he pointed it on me. In desperation, I kicked his crotch. It was enough to cripple him for a few minutes. It bought me some time.
He called my name. His voice resounded in the vastness of the dark, woods. There was no clear source, because I lost track of direction in the aim to rid of him from my sight.
I will hunt you down!
The source appeared to be nearer this time. Panic strikes. Composure lost.
"Face me weaponless, you coward!" I screamed. I was crying. I never expected this.
One over seven billion is a ridiculous chance that I was willing to wait for. Impossible was the word to beat.
But fate cracked my code. I found him. Seven months ago, we were a match made in heaven (some would coin). I must have thought of it as a bad omen, for it was too good to be true.
Seven months from that point, he wants to kill me. I want to kill him in equal measure. Everytime though, when I think that I have the courage to put the dagger in his neck, it breaks me to pieces. It ruins me hundredfold. How can I ever destroy the man who believed me, who was with me in my lowest of lows? He rescued me from a lot of difficult instances. He fulfilled my fantasies...
I woke up sobbing, pillows wet. Dreams are reflections of the reality that my conscious would be ashamed to reveal, yet my subconscious wants to expose. Perhaps, in the convergence of partial truths and partial imaginations, there lies the answer.
I still love him even if it hurts me.