Invasion

Date: 5/10/2022

I was at my grandma’s house, and I was a young girl, about 16 years old (I’m a 35 year old man in real life, so that was weird). I was with some other family members when we all heard loud, persistent knocking at the door. All of us looked around at each other nervously. Not only was it very late at night for visitors, but the knocking continued, again and again. Loud, booming through the house. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK… Nobody moved, everyone hoped the strange visitor would leave. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK… I got curious, and I snuck quietly into the garage, where I could get a view of the front porch through some windows. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK… There were three men standing on the front deck, and a white van with tinted windows in the driveway. One of the men turned and saw me through the garage window. Shoot! I ducked quickly, but I knew it was too late. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK… I scurried back into the house to tell the others, then quickly sought shelter inside the guest bathroom. There was a closet that I shut myself into, and I could peek through the slats in the folding door. It was clear that these men will not give up, so I took out my cell phone and called 9-1-1. As I spoke to the 9-1-1 operator, I saw my grandpa peering into the closet, as if he wanted to come in too. I quietly opened the door while describing everything to the operator. My grandpa stood there staring at me with frightened eyes. I saw two strangers pass the open bathroom door. The men were inside the house now. Two more strangers entered the bathroom, having a casual conversation. To my surprise they did not seem interested in me or my grandfather. They simply stood there talking to each other. I wandered out into the hall, finding more small groups of strangers who all stood around talking as if they were guests at a party. It was day time now; the gloomy light of a cloudy day spilled into the house. In a panicked state of utter confusion, I hurried out the back door and swiftly walked toward the woods. As I passed bushes and trees in the backyard, I could see that two men were flanking me on both sides. The one on my right was a boy about my age. He kept saying things (I can’t remember what exactly), that seemed as though he was flirting. I brushed him off and ignored him as I continued toward the woods. I saw three people hanging out in a small barn at the edge of the woods. They were joking with each other, drinking and eating. I saw one of them accidentally caught some hay on fire, and didn’t seem to care. I quickly put the fire out before it got worse, and they just ignored me. At this point I realized I was no longer on the phone with 9-1-1. What is with these people? They’re completely reckless freeloaders, taking over the house and property! Where are the police!? Looking back toward the house, I saw the police had arrived and were chatting with some of the strangers. They seemed to be having a friendly conversation! — Somehow, I ended up on a fake street, which was actually an interior space that was decorated like a street, with street lamps and store facades. Each store was the entrance to another room inside a giant underground mansion that apparently my father owned. The strangers filled the space, walking in groups here and there. I filed into one of the store fronts with a group of four others. Inside this room was a small theater, with a concessions stand and all. Past the kitchen area, there was a doorway to a train. I boarded with some other strangers, and the train started to travel around a huge mountainside that bordered a lake. One of the men handed me a monocular so I could see into the distance. I looked around at the mountains to find an escape route. Even far up the mountains, I saw trucks with strangers walking about. Escape was miles away. — Later, I found myself back on the fake streets in the mansion. There was a panic, as the man who handed me the monocular was in a gun fight with some of the strangers. He hurried me into an alleyway nearby to explain that he was actually undercover, and has been trying to stop this group for a long time. “They’re a slippery bunch. They come into homes and take over the place. We have to be careful with them or they’ll get away again,” he told me. “This is exhausting…” I thought to myself. I looked over to my right to see a table, and George Costanza from Seinfeld, hunched over a glass of whiskey. “I didn’t know Seinfeld had this weird season… I feel like we should skip this one. This is supposed to be our comedy show but this is too dramatic,” I said to my wife, as I was now sitting next to her in my living room, watching George continue to drink on the TV. I woke up, and almost forgot about all this until I opened the bathroom closet.