Alien Take-Over

Date: 3/28/2018

I'm a young boy, playing outside in a countryish area of mountains, behind a large barn. Suddenly a huge UFO crashes behind the barn. My friend and I pick through the debris. A couple of days later I'm playing on some sort of walkie-talkie. It has a yellow light on it. The light isn't supposed to be there. It wasn't before the UFO crashed. My dad takes away my walkie-talkie to my protests. He needs to use it. Later, he gives me a walkie-talkie, but it isn't line. It doesn't have a light on it. I tell him this isn't mine - mine has a light on it - but he just shrugs and ignores me, doing that thing where adults think you're making a big deal out of nothing because they never really listen to you. MY walkie-talkie was touched my aliens. Before I know it, we're adults. I'm no longer the little boy that I was in the beginning of the dream. In fact, I'm the young adult version of his friend who was there that night, an African American teen. I'm on a mission. It's critical. The war with the aliens has gone on for years but this moment seems to be the turning point. We're in a large barn-type area. After much fighting, we've reached the leader of the aliens. He looks sort of like a cross between Bette Midler and Bela Lugosi. This is my second time trying this mission. The Army has developed a tools to travel backwards in time. I failed miserably my first time around. The pressure is so intense this time. Everyone seems to expect me to know exactly what to do since I e seen it all happened before. They are relying on me to anticipate the enemy's moves. The trouble is, I was unaware I'd be repeating this mission and wasn't really paying close attention before. I had been thinking about my girlfriend, who was on a less intense, but significantly more dangerous, part of the ship. I think about how different time travel on TV is from real life. I look over and see my girlfriend there. I'm taken aback. "Are you working here now?" I ask her. "Yeah. They though you could use some... inspiration." She turns around, her long red curly hair swishing over her butt. I can tell she's flirting but I'm just relieved that she's there. I've now positioned myself on the opposite side of the room as I was the first time around. I'm crouched underneath a girthy boy who has his back to the alien leader, pretending to work on something. The alien is giving a speech. Something about torturing humans. I'm furious and no longer inside the African-American teen. I'm more like.. a formless presence in front of him. He's pointing his guns at the alien, but the alien can't see him for the fat kid. The fat kid looks at former-me and nods. The teen I used to be shoots at the alien through the boy and... Nothing happens. Except that the fat boy slumps over, dying. The plan here seemed to be to sneakily pierce through the boy and hit the alien, but in reality the bullets didn't pierce the boy. What a waste of life, I think in disgust, but the other term doesn't have time to worry about regret right now - he's holding a rocket launcher pointed at the alien. He lets a missile go and it flies backwards, punching a hole in a nearby room where his superiors are. They curse a lot. Suddenly, we're hiding in a bathtub and the alien is on the other side. Yes, once more the teen and I are the same person.The alien begins quoting from a Bela Lugosi movie. I'm not sure which one, because I haven't seen any of them. I stay very quiet and wait. Finally he says the last line, signifying that the attack is over. There's a great rumble. I wait for a few minutes, then come out. It's over. We've lost. We're going to have to go back and repeat the process. I see my friend from my youth and start to talk about that first night with the UFO, the night where it landed right where we're standing now, and everything began. I ask his uncle about the walkie-talkie with the yellow light. His uncle doesn't remember. I ask my friend, and he doesn't remember either. This seems really weird to me. That kid played with that light for days, noticing how different amounts of static on the line corresponded with whether the light brightened or not. His uncle asks me if I mean this one, and I grab the walkie-talkie from him. This is important. The aliens have blocked or removed Jay's memories. There must be a reason for this. The next thing I remember is turning on the light, and watching the purple swath of the aliens influence disappear across the nation.