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When I was around 10-11, we moved into an old farm house in Virginia that was well over 100 years old when we moved in. We all loved that house because it had so much character: tin roof for awesome rain sleeping, many extra rooms for whatever we needed, and so much space outside that we never missed the city.

In the house was me, my mom and dad, my older brother (2 years), my younger brother (5 years) and my grandmother. We all loved the house and we saved it from being torn down due to disrepair. No one wanted to live there but we moved in and turned it from an overgrown tear down to a wonderful farm house.

My family all remembers this story and they're all afraid to talk about it. One night when I was 11-12 years old, I was in the top bunk while my older brother was in the bottom bunk of our twin bunk beds. I remember having the most vivid dream where I was out in the side yard playing kicking a soccer ball around when some Native Americans rode by on their horses. Each Native was decked out in full ceremonial garb from their head down to their horses. I froze in my tracks and stared at the Indians as they jumped over the side fence in tandem, they looked so majestic that my little boy mind was in awe. I remember locking eyes with one of the Indians and he broke rank and slowed down his horse, never breaking eye contact with me. I started to worry and took a few steps back, only to watch the Indian slowly pull an arrow from his side and quickly launch it into the air.

I remember watching the arrow pierce the sky as I tried to follow it. I squinted into the sun as it disappeared, only to have it abruptly crash back down into my field of view and headed right for me. I tripped while running away and landed on my side in the grass, just as the arrow pierced my abdomen from my right side all the way through my left. I screamed in agony as the arrow was now completely imbedded into my body, pinning me to the ground. The Indian rode up to me and stared down at me from on top his horse. He glared at me like I was invading his home and he didn't want me there. I was terrified, I thought he was going to kill me, so I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could for help.

My older brother who was sleeping below me was the first to find me. I was in the top bunk right above, drenched in sweat, and bleeding from two open wounds in my abdomen. My parents came in soon after and were able to lift me from the bed and bandage my wounds. I was in shock and could explain the dream, so they just thought I had scratched myself during a nightmare.

Years later, when I was in my late 20's, I mentioned the dream to my parents and older brother, thinking they had forgotten about it. Turns out, that night has always haunted my brother because he claims he had a similar nightmare where Indians rode through our yard and shot me with an arrow before he ran over and saved me.

I actually have two scars in my stomach that no one can explain. They look like puncture wounds and appeared immediately after my nightmare.

(Posted on iphone, please forgive any mistakes due to autocorrect.)