[Oct 2013] Chased by a Dog

I have a dream. A nightmare that’s been haunting me for decades, since my early childhood.

I am a little boy, five or six years old maybe. I am playing outside the house when the dog comes around from nowhere again. It is a big, massive, muscular male dog, with a wide chin and sharp white shiny teeth. I look at that monster’s face and see determination and aggression in his eyes. He is ready to kill and came here to tear me apart.

As the dog is approaching, I stand up, drop the truck I am playing with and look around to find some place to escape or hide. My parents are away. I know I am all alone, like almost always in my life. I don’t even wonder why I have to face this alone. The dog launches at me, and I realize I have nowhere to go. My little body is trembling. I have to fight for my life.

The dog runs straight at me, jumping from distant, targeting my neck to kill me right away. I make a herculean effort and grab his cheeks with my little hands, and shove him down to the ground. I have the chance to kick him while he is down on his back, but I am afraid that kicking would infuriate him further. I am terrified of his vengeance. I hope that grabbing and shoving can make him calm down, and I can befriend and convince him to go away. The dog turns back on its feet, stands up and looks at me, showing his teeth in anger, growling. The next moment he is is on his way to strike again.

I am begging for mercy, but words and screams mean nothing to this dog. Soon he is swimming in the air again with an open mouth, and I have to use all my strength and skills to defend myself. I grab his cheeks near his mouth again miraculously and throw him on its back. „You stay there,” I say with fear, not believing it helps. I am exhausted and terrified. I know I can’t kill him. I have nowhere to hide, and there is no one to help me. And the dog doesn’t seem to give up until I am dead.

I am afraid that I won’t be able to beat off many more attacks. I know I will lose the battle very soon, and he is going to kill me. The dog gets back on his feet and sets off for the next assault. At the moment his legs leave the ground to send that lethal body in the air, I close my eyes, cross my arms to defend myself, and wake up in sweat and tears, lying in my bed, gasping for breath.

I have kept on having these nightmares every other week with the same dog for decades. I can always manage to defend myself somehow, but I can never make the dog truly stop for more than a second. I have to live in constant fear. One second of inattention can cost my life. And no matter how tall, strong, and old I grow in real life, in my dreams I am this helpless six-year-old boy again, having to fight that powerful, murderous dog all alone. And the dog keeps on coming to kill me.

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