Published September 13, 2024 

My nightmares are back. They are so crushing. This one will stay with me for days.

Wherever I was, with people I know professionally (and could name here if I wanted to), my execution-style death was minutes away. I, and the equally vulnerable person with me, knew this. We’d overheard the conversations. As soon as the people with the guns returned, that would be it for us.

We needed a plan. The best we could come up with was to take a chance and rush one of them, try to knock the gun out of their hands, and turn the tables. We were hurriedly trying to formulate our strategy when we became distracted.

I peeked around a corner and saw and heard a conversation between two of the three men with guns. They were choreographing how they would shoot us. Their talk was casual. The whole thing seemed like sport, or a video game, to them.

Somehow, I managed to get away, and I called 911. I told the person who answered what was about to happen. Giving them the exact address was difficult. I was confused. At first I named a street address in Oregon. Then I described a place in Louisiana. And then a place whose exact location was unknown to me.

After I woke up, I interpreted this to mean the imminent threats to me are seemingly everywhere. And I can’t say that’s inaccurate.

It’s virtually impossible to live and function this way.

Let’s say you want to try to protect your peace, as the posters you see on LinkedIn and elsewhere on the internet urge you to do. Let’s say you are steeped in toxic places, where you have been betrayed, toyed with, undervalued, maybe even gaslighted. Let’s say there is no sign of any of this ever changing, but the world you live in requires you to have money to pay rent.

Protecting your peace can already feel like a luxury, but it’s especially true when these nightmares hunt you down and execute your spirit and your hope.

These do not feel like dreams. They also don’t feel real. They are real. Right now I am still trembling as if this happened in the last hour. How do you shake that and tell your psyche it’s just a dream?

The events of the next few months are almost certain to decide my fate for however long I have left. I’m not allowed to talk about them here, or anywhere publicly or semi-privately, and I am also not allowed to tell you more about the who and the why of that. I wish I could.

The suppression of my freedom and of my ability to advocate for my safety, and against those who are allied against me, is, I am sure, why these nightmares have escalated to the point that they are so real.

The threat is real.

And even to lifelong friends who once called themselves allies, I am not worth the risk to their retirement plans, it seems, so I am expendable, as are others like me. We know this. We’ve watched it unfold for years.

So, yeah, we’re terrified.

I woke up at 10:30 p.m. I’m probably going to be awake all night. Again. I am still trying to recover from so many things that have sent my mental and physical health plummeting.

These nightmares are getting in the way.

They are only a taste of the nightmares that await me if the next few months don’t go well.

Image of a child in bed having nightmares by Yuganov Konstantin via Shutterstock.