Scratch

Usually, you can control your dreams. You can shape it into any way you want. You can recreate the world in your own image. You can do things impossible in the real world. You're practically a god.

One night, that wasn't the case for me.

I found myself unable to control it. The buildings began to fall, explode. Missiles soared through the sky, colliding with buildings, destroying them altogether.

I tried to use my godly powers in the dream to create a forcefield, but it dissolved immediately. I tried again, but the same happened. Someone (or something) else had possessed the dream.

Or possessed me.

Then my fingers curled. I shrieked in pain and fell to the floor. My glasses cracked and shattered. Everything around me was just a blur, and I could only make out faint orange and red lights.

I tried to make my eyesight better, but I couldn't. I was unable to see anything. Except for one thing.

In the fiery ruins, a man with a hat covering his eyes approached me. I saw him clearly. His mechanical eye. His scars. His artillery.

Then he smiled, and I looked down in my right hand. An MP4 lay in it.

No. I can't. I can't seduce myself. I can't bring myself into the world of terrorism.

Then my fingers wrapped around it.

And I grinned.

The End
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Weird story, huh? I didn't get it much either. I'll add a small explanation later.