A House Under Siege

The house wasn’t mine, but it felt like home. It was full of life, laughter, and energy—the basement echoing with the sounds of teenagers joking, playing, and just enjoying the moment. These weren’t just any kids; they were my kids—the teens I spent so much time mentoring, recording music with, and guiding. They were carefree, unaware of the storm brewing just outside.

Through the front window, I caught sight of something that made my stomach drop. On the porch was an older friend, someone I respected and trusted, sleeping peacefully in a bed that somehow ended up there. But he wasn’t alone. Two strangers stood over him, their voices sharp, their gestures threatening. One of them carried a gun—big, heavy, and menacing. They weren’t just harassing him; they were preparing for something worse.

I moved closer to the door, peeking out to get a better look. Their eyes met mine. I froze as they turned their attention from him to me. A loud knock rattled the side door of the house.

“Hold on a second,” I called, my voice trembling. “I have to see if I can let you in.” It wasn’t my house to control. It belonged to my friend, the one being tormented on the porch. But I didn’t open the door. I stepped back, my heart pounding, hoping the teens in the basement wouldn’t notice the danger creeping closer.

I had to do something. Quickly, I pressed a medical alert button that I somehow found in the house. The kind of button older people use to call for help. Moments later, I saw an ambulance arrive. Relief swept through me for just a second—help was here. But the intruders weren’t fazed. The ambulance crew did nothing to stop them, and the situation felt even more desperate.

I couldn’t stay there. The house wasn’t safe anymore. I stepped outside, trying to slip away unnoticed, but they saw me. Their voices carried threats as they followed me. Panic surged, and I broke into a sprint, running toward another house I spotted nearby. Bursting through the door, I quickly locked it behind me, but the locks were flimsy. The security was terrible, and I knew it wouldn’t hold.

They were coming.

I ran through the house, searching for an escape route. The backyard offered a small glimmer of hope—a wooden wall that looked climbable. I scrambled up, adrenaline fueling me as my fingers gripped the rough edges. I pulled myself over, not daring to look back. And just as I reached the top, I woke up.

The dream left me shaken, a vivid reminder of how vulnerable we can feel when trying to protect others from the dangers of the world. The laughter in the basement, the helplessness on the porch, and the chase through unfamiliar territory lingered in my mind, reminding me that sometimes, the fight to protect those we care about pushes us to our limits.