The Dreamer's Pen

Last night I had one of the most terrifying dreams I’ve had in a long time and it left me waking up with this heavy, uneasy feeling that still hasn’t lifted. It was vivid in a way that felt brutally real and the worst part is that it involved actual people from my job. For privacy, I’m removing names and referring to one coworker as Colleague A (the perpetrator) and another as Colleague B (the victim).

In the dream, I was at this big meet up with every person I’ve ever worked with at my current college—past coworkers, current ones, everyone mingling like some chaotic academic reunion. The energy felt normal and harmless at first.

Then the lights suddenly went out.

Just total darkness.

I walked toward my car which for some reason was parked right by the building and that’s when I heard it—five sharp, heavy impacts. Not yelling. Not footsteps. Impacts. And somehow I knew something was terribly wrong even before I turned around.

I rushed back toward the building. The lights snapped back on.

And that’s when the nightmare fully unfurled.

Colleague A had stabbed Colleague B five times and then stuffed her into the trunk of my car where she died.

People were calling for Colleague B, searching with rising panic. And then one of my former colleagues – someone who has been like a mentor to me for years—walked to my car, looked inside and gasped. He turned to me with this expression that still makes my stomach sink.

“Stefanie, how could you do this?”

I remember the absolute shock and the disbelief. I kept saying, “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.” But I walked over, and I saw her Colleague B – bloody and dead in my trunk.

Everything shattered instantly.

Everyone turned on me. People I’d worked with for years, people I’d built relationships with and people I thought cared about me – they all dumped me in an instant. They called me cruel. Evil. Manipulative. A monster. They said I was twisted, heartless… every horrible name you can imagine. And I was completely innocent.

Meanwhile, Colleague A, the real murderer, was standing in the background snickering.

I told management it was her. I said it over and over. And she even admitted it. She shrugged and said it was “a crime of passion” and blamed her medication like that explained anything. Management didn’t even flinch. If anything, they seemed to worship her.

“These things happen,” they told her. “In education, sometimes we get frustrated.”

They let her keep working there after she admitted to murder. MURDER. Then they turned to me and said, “Stefanie, you just need to learn to work with others or you are fired.”

I said I didn’t feel safe. I said I didn’t want to be next. They laughed, literally laughed, like I was being dramatic.

And then my mentor…

His reaction was the part that cut the deepest.

He looked at me like he was seeing a stranger, like everything he ever believed about me had been shattered. He said, “I’m so disappointed in you. You’re not the person I thought you were. You are a FRAUD. YOU ARE EVIL!” His voice was full of disgust like he was disturbed by the very sight of me.

I kept saying, “I’m innocent. I didn’t do this. Please listen to me.” But he wouldn’t. He refused. And then he delivered the final blow:

“I was wrong about you. You’re a horrible, cruel, and sick person.”

Hearing that, from someone who had once been a mentor, felt like being crushed from the inside out.

Things only spiraled from there. The police arrived and immediately wanted to arrest me even though Colleague A had confessed. They didn’t care. No one cared. Every friendship I had built vanished. Everyone chose to believe the worst of me while the actual murderer walked around freely.

After the coroner finally removed Colleague B’s body, I went back to my car. The trunk was soaked in blood. No one helped me. No one supported me. I was completely alone, terrified, and blamed for something I never did.

It was awful. Just such a horrible dream. I woke up shaken to my core, overwhelmed, and deeply unsettled. I still don’t know what my mind was trying to process, but whatever it was, it hit something deep and raw.

Reflection

I’m not exactly sure what this dream was trying to tell me, but the emotional message was loud. There was something about the blame, the confusion, the isolation – everyone turning on me even when I was innocent – that felt painfully symbolic. Maybe it was my mind trying to process how overwhelmed I’ve been. Maybe it was the pressure I’ve been under, the fear of being misunderstood, and the exhaustion of always feeling like I have to prove myself or defend my intentions.

It’s strange how dreams can take real emotions and twist them into horror. In real life, I’m not being framed for anything but there are moments when I feel unheard. Moments where it feels like I’m carrying too much alone. Moments where I worry that if I make one mistake and people will see me differently. Or that people won’t understand me the way I wish they would.

I think the worst part of the dream wasn’t even the violence, it was that loss of connection. The fear of being abandoned or mislabeled. The fear of someone you respect looking at you differently. The feeling of being blamed for something you didn’t do.

So maybe that was the whole point. Maybe my brain was trying to tell me how heavy everything has been lately, how much fear and pressure I’ve been quietly holding. It was disturbing and awful, but it also showed me how deeply I want to feel understood, supported, and safe.

I’m still shaken, but I’m also listening. Maybe my mind was asking me to slow down a little, breathe, and take care of myself before all that pressure spills into my dreams again