I’ve been having this recurring nightmare since I was little (let’s say I was 6, cause I don’t remember when it started). For insanity’s sake, let’s italicize the dream sequences:
Initially, I’d be lying in bed, and a man dressed in black and wearing a black balaclava would appear in my doorway. Then I’d wake up. The dream progressed as the nights went on:
(I often slept in my mother’s bed when I was little, especially after a dream like this.) Anyway, I’d see a “fly-on-the-wall” view of my mother and I sleeping in her bed. And the man with the balaclava comes down the hallway and finds me there. Eventually, he pulls out a gun, and shoots me while I sleep. Sometimes I’d be following him down the hallway.. like a movie camera would, I suppose — it’s a dream. I can be watching and getting shot at the same time, I guess. In the last few dreams I remember from being 6, he’d turn around, see me watching him watch me sleep with my mother, and he would shoot ME (the watcher — confused?) as if shooting at the camera. (You know what? I don’t care if you’re following — this is today’s e-therapy!)
I think the dreams were always in black and white, but the man always came at night, and the hallways were darkened, so it’s hard to tell.
Now, I’ve never ever had my house broken into. I don’t think I even know of anyone who’s had a burglary, much less a balaclava-clad man come in a shoot them in their sleep. And I suppose it wasn’t even a burglary — he never took anything. He’d just shoot me, and I’d wake up (obviously).
Looking back, I think most of these dreams happened when my dad was out of town or working late… Well, maybe. They eventually went away, and until relatively recently, I’ve always had another grown-up under my roof. I’d feel especially safe in apartment buildings, because other grown-ups are still technically “under my roof,” and spitting-distance away.
OK. Now the dream is back. Except this time, there’s a twist. The other night, the man came to my bedroom door (in my dream, of course). I didn’t see what clothes he was wearing, but the balaclava was blue with red trim — definitely all in colour this time. My bedside lamp was on, as it is when The Boy goes to sleep. (He and I share a room, and his crib is about 2 feet from my bed.) Somehow, in the dream, I decide to make a dash for the bathroom, because it’s the only door in the house that locks. (Does it though? Not really. And the “outside door” is just as close.) I make a quick decision to leave The Boy sleeping in his crib because I cannot get to The Girl’s room AND the bathroom in one clean swoop. I figure they’ll be safe where they are, and as long as I don’t call attention to them, the man won’t even know they’re there. Though somehow, I feel terrible abandoning them (and wow. I see this as a single-mother-two-hands-can’t-save-both thing).
So I finally make it in the bathroom. I shut the door, and have miraculously managed to grab the portable phone. The odd thing about this dream, really, is that other than not really seeing the man’s body, there’s nothing out of place here. The house was how it actually looks. The colours and lighting were right, and things like the phone and doors were completely as they are normally. Same thing in my 6-year-old dream.
So I decide I need to call for help. I look at the keypad. I know it’s 9-1-1 that needs to be entered, but I keep hitting 9-1-2. And 7-2-1. (I’ve noticed numbers and letters frequently get jumbled in my dreams.) The man is on the other side of the door, and I know it. Then I woke up.
Although it’s with a grain of salt, I’m reading a book (somebody throw me a bone here and tell me how to include a link.. I’m that stupid) about dream interpretation. Apparently, all prophetic dreams are in colour, though the opposite is not always true. It may also be a “release” dream.. to let my subconscious mind really go through the worst-case scenario, and then reassure me that everything will be ok. (But… I died after being shot right? And in the recent one, I woke up before it got resolved.. so..) I do worry about someone breaking in, I guess. I have trouble getting to sleep at night. Even though I spend hours on end alone in the basement, I somehow think that the second the lights are off and I’m in my bed, someone’s on their way in. I must lie awake staring at the staircase for an hour or more EVERY NIGHT, making sure there’s no shinannigans in the basement. Sounds silly, I know. But again, see title of this post.
This book also says that when you dream about a house, the house symbolizes you. And the fact that someone’s IN the house, means either my privacy or safety are being violated, or both. But hey, that’s what break-ins are normally about.
So I’ll sit here quite insanely with my thoughts for a few more moments. Then head upstairs, and stare at the stairs like I always do. Eventually I’ll fall asleep, and the world probably won’t end. Probably. 
