Home > Uncategorized > The Man Who Wants Me Dead

The Man Who Wants Me Dead

I had a dream so vivid I was convinced when I woke up that my life was still in some danger.

First, the setting. I was living in a suburban area in a two-family house with six or seven other people. Why I was in this arrangement I’m not sure.

It started with me receiving a notification that I had a package. I picked it up from the Post Office and brought it home, even though I found it to be a bit suspicious. Immediately my hands became red and irritated, and I realized that it was some sort of harmful chemical. I threw it out and didn’t tell anyone about it; I suppose I thought I could simply ignore the incident and put it behind me.

I then dreamt I had a dream, wherein another package was reported to have exploded in Yonkers en route to my house. I woke up in a panic, went to work, and came home to find a suspicious package sitting on my doorstep.

Suddenly, a man in his early fifties approached me in an angry fashion.

“Are you Kevin Marshall? The Kevin Marshall who runs this household? The Kevin Marshall whose house faces my wife’s bedroom?”

“Yes,” I replied, not knowing who he was or how he knew my name.

“4:30am and this house is lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree! You have your goddamn people turn off the lights!”

“I’ll let them know,” I responded.

This answer didn’t satisfy him. He started shouting and shoved me. I pinned him against the wall.

“You old fuck,” I said, holding the nape of his neck in my right hand. “Someone’s trying to kill me and you’re bitching to me about lights!”

He ran off, not to be seen in this dream again.

I went to the police. They sent a detective, two lab techs, and someone that was from the Department of Homeland Security. They investigated the package and removed its contents: a soaked newspaper and a DVD. They determined that the substance on the package and soaking the newspaper was a deadly chemical, and negated it with some sort of solution. They took a few samples, a statement, and used something resembling a dusting of fingerprints to get the impressions of handwriting from several personal checks.

I saw the name. Andrew Coonradt. He lived in Orange County. They asked me why he wanted me dead, and I couldn’t give them an answer. I honestly didn’t know, nor did I know him.

Then the police were gone, leaving the newspaper and DVD behind. I watched the DVD, which was an animated film of some sort. It suddenly cut out to show this Andrew Coonradt in his lab. He was making the solution he intended to kill me. Hands, vials, and other materials cluttered the table. It then cut to a graphic that simply said “goodbye, Kevin Marshall.”

I decided to call the police the next morning and let them know what I saw. I investigated the name and found out he was a student at my place of employment, and a Google search found that he had some great grudge against me from something that had happened last June that I don’t even remember. Further investigation revealed he had bypassed our systems and was creating his own web profiles on our private servers, openly mocking us; problem was, we had no idea it existed until after the fact. He had hoped to antagonize me, and yet if his plan had succeeded, I never would have known.

I then received word – somehow – that he was going to meet me on a rooftop. I went there, and the police were on a floor below. I ran into several other people, none of whom I recognized.  Then he showed up. I didn’t see him, but I was in a great panic. I told them that they had to send the others, the others that I lived with, immediately. The police responded that they couldn’t find them, then there was radio silence. End dream.

Weird, right? Especially since I still feel worried and anxious from it, as if there is this unknown threat from this fictitious person – Andrew Coonradt – who wants to see me dead for reasons only he knows or can fathom. There’s something frightening to me about the concept of not knowing what I did to wrong someone in their eyes, but that this wholly unintentional and unknown act carried with it fatal consequences.

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Categories: Uncategorized
  1. Erin Morelli
    May 9, 2010 at 12:26 pm

    I feel like you could develop this into some kind of awesome Twilight Zone-esque short story. Also, I totally get what you mean about vivid dreams. While not as intense as yours, I had an awful dream that involved a very violent destruction to my garden due to a tornado-like wind. I woke up in a panic that it was real and ran to my backyard to check on it. Dreams are crazy.

  2. Chris
    May 9, 2010 at 1:28 pm

    If your dream had been allowed to continue, that “old fuck” would have been shown to be a significant character somehow.

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