In the dream, there were two "species" of people: one the normal humans, the other, called hybrids. I didn't fully grasp what these hybrids were until an odd thing happened.
I was walking with my cousins along the shore of the beach near our home when we spotted a group of people crowding around something. Curious, my cousins and I approached the mob until we saw what was piquing their interests -- it was a pile of dead bodies.
There were around dozens of them; a corpse on top of another, like a stack of messed up books. They were mangled beyond recognition, and they were stripped off their clothes. All their eyes were open, as though they died by surprise. I retched, unable to take the sight. I was about to tell my cousins that we should go, when a bomb from beneath the pile of corpses activated, and human meat, blood, and innards splattered everywhere, including on ourselves.
I was horrified. I screamed, and screamed, and screamed, overwhelmed by the blood and human pieces that stuck to my body.
At some point, I managed to get home. I was suddenly sitting by the dining table with my parents and my roommate surrounding me. They were eating in silence, but I couldn't. The sight of the dead bodies and the blood and human meat splattered everywhere didn't leave my mind.
Apparently, my family and my extended family were some of the only few full-humans left in the neighborhood, so when a neighbor came knocking on our door, I answered with hesitation. She approached us to ask for food, even showing me an empty and clean container, but I couldn't be fooled.
She was a hybrid, I thought. If I entertained her, her family would come at us and kill my family. But my father was kind; he believed that the neighbor who came to us was human, too, and not a hybrid. So he gave her some of our roasted turkey.
She left.
Some time later, one of my male cousins came running to our house to tell us that the hybrids would be attacking us later that day. I got so scared for my parents and aunts and uncles. They were old, and they told us that we should go find a safe shelter for ourselves and the kids and the family.
"But what about you?" I asked.
"We'll get by." It was one of my uncles who answered.
I couldn't just let it end at that, so I urged them to come with us. But they were resolute. "No. We'll just end up holding you back."
Hold us back, how? I couldn't understand, but we were running out of time. I and another cousin were in charge of the babies.
"Go find 251 Pook," said my aunt. It was either 251 or 281. None of my cousins nor I knew where that was, or if it even existed, but my roommate at work seemed to know. She said she would lead us to that place.
I started crying as we began to leave. I even told my mother I loved her. When we were far enough, I looked back and saw my uncles and father putting up barricades around our house.
We ran to the best of our abilities, never mind that we were carrying many things, children included. We crossed the street, but after a while and for some unfathomable reason, we crossed back again.
We were suddenly in our grandparents' front yard.
"This is it," said my roommate. "251 Pook."
But it was my grandparents' place!
There were a group of people crowding the front yard, with someone in front seemingly giving a lecture. The person leading the crowd noticed us, but it seemed that I stood out to him.
He called me over, and told me to "lead the prayer." He'd gauge if I was part of their group or not. If I was hybrid or if I was human.
I was confused and I didn't know the prayer he talked about. I handed the baby I was carrying to one of my cousins as the man pulled me out of my cousins' group.
"Just any prayer, child," he told me.
I tried to utter a prayer, but I didn't know how to start. I sat at the old bench my grandfather built in the front yard, and began to cry. The man sat beside me, too.
"What's the problem?" he asked.
My cries got louder and even more hurt. My throat hurt from the anguish, and my eyes burned. I was just so sad -- and heartbroken. I cried harder.
I told him that I was hurt, because I couldn't utter a prayer. I was hurt, because I had been neglecting God lately. And the hurt was making me so sad.
He patted me on the back. I looked at him, but I could only see his mouth. He was about to say something, but I woke up.
Dream Journal from March 19, 2019
