It was my house that was not my house, and I was there but not in reality, only by observation. My dad who was not my dad, or possibly just the hero in the adventure I was watching, had detected a ticking sound in the house; and, through some kind of detective work, had found the source: a ticking bomb behind the wall made of a car battery with a stopwatch-style timer strapped to a… book. This did not seem odd. I make a rare appearance by taking this understood-bomb and putting it in a backyard that actually was my backyard at one point. The logic, I think, being that it seemed to be a bomb, with the ticking and the ominous foreboding, but did not seem to actually be a bomb what with the book. So to the backyard it goes; to undoubtedly explode, but probably un-spectacularly.

My cargo delivered, I am relegated back to incorporeal observer.

>The hero and a girl, and possibly an older woman, discuss the bomb, which has now become a number of bombs, also found behind the wall but placed gingerly in the backyard. There conversation is unintelligible, only the subject is clear. Suddenly, but rather un-spectacularly as predicted, the first bomb explodes in a puff of smoke or steam, and standing in it’s place is a kind of spirit-zombie in hyper black and white. It is understood that he has only malice in mind.

He begins chasing people around the backyard (there are now more people) until he catches one and presumably kills him, though the body itself (and the zombie) disappear. More bombs go off and more people disappear as a result. Eventually, only the girl remains (and me as an observer) and she is able to absorb several zombies without disappearing. She, with great effort, tells me to run, run, run! while there’s still time! And I do, having only just recently reappeared on the scene.
I run right into wakefulness.

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