For obvious reasons I'm going to change the names of the people involved in this.
Me and my girlfriend just started college and university in August last year. After high school, it was sort of a relief for both of us to have our own separate groups of friends, but that's not to say we didn't become friends with each other's groups. In my group of friends, we've got a gay transgender emo, a tattoo-obsessed gamer girl, a guy roughly my age with social anxiety, and another guy who's main sort of gimmick is that he wears a hat all the time and doesn't eat much except breakfast cereal. Now, in my girlfriends group, we have a foreign exchange student (Allison), a guy who is basically like a human-database for Marvel comics (Kyle) (ask this guy anything to do with Marvel, he knows the answer), an engaged couple who don't look a day over sixteen but are actually 21 and 22 (Lindsay and Matt), and finally Derek. Derek is a cunt. In every sense of the word, Derek is a cunt. I think so. My girlfriend thinks so. Allison, Kyle, Lindsay and Matt think so. Why? Well kiddie's lemme tell ya.
Derek is not only a cunt, but he's a neck-beard cunt. I'm assuming you've all heard of neck-beards. Imagine that, but whinier, more opinionated, more self-centered, more misogynistic, more unhygienic, and just overall, more of a punchable pile of shit. I mean sure, he does have some legit problems to deal with in his life, like acid reflux, anxiety, dealing with his mother's cancer diagnosis, shit like that. However, while that is something we can sympathize with, it's not a fucking excuse to treat your own friends like shit. It's not an excuse to hold my girlfriend up against a wall and try to forcefully kiss her (she fought him off, don't worry). It's not an excuse to whine like a little bitch just because Allison doesn't want to see you naked. It's not an excuse to brag that you're going to ask 3 different girls on dates, in the same day, over facebook. It's not an excuse to call Lindsay a bitch because she won't leave her fiance for you. It's not an excuse to be a passive aggressive dickhole to me and Matt just because we're going out with the girls you want to fuck. It's not an excuse to skip an entire week of classes just because of ONE anxiety attack, that you had on the weekend. It's not an excuse to butt in when we're having a group discussion just to change the topic so that it's about you, no matter how irrelevant whatever the hell you're talking about is.
I honestly have no idea why we put up with Derek, I really don't. He's a waste of sperm. I know that seems harsh, but that's how much this fucker pisses me off. He shows NO regard for other people's feelings or opinions, kicks up a fuss if we don't do things his way, sees women as nothing but sex objects and takes other people's stuff without even asking for it. This guys acts like such a damn child, and I can hardly believe this guy turns 25 this year. I'm 19 and even I'm more mature than that!
So, a couple nights ago, I dreamed I was in a living room. I don't know where. But it was a generic living room: table, tv, couch, couple of chairs, stuff like that. I was on one chair he was on the other, the couch was empty. Neither of us said anything. All we were doing was just watching tv. That's the last things I remember before killing him in the dream. There was no in-between, nothing to trigger me off, all I remember is just watching tv and then standing over him, wrapping my fingers round his fat neck, squeezing the life out of him. It was the strangest dream I've had in my whole life and scared me a lot because it felt real. I felt my hands tense more and more round his throat. I felt the desire to never have to hear him breathe or speak ever again. I felt his eyes say what his mouth couldn't, as they pleaded for mercy. His hands scrambled in any direction imaginable for a route to escape, the veins in the back of my hands bulged with each tensing grip, his eyes went bloodshot and tear-filled. And I felt fear and panic. The sudden realization that right in front of me is the body of a person that was alive and breathing only a minute ago, the way I am now. The realization that I had taken away something that could never be returned. The realization that an unimaginable amount of people will notice his absence: his friends, his family, his employer, his lecturers.
When I woke up I had no idea what to think of it. I was certainly glad it was only a dream, but was I only glad about it because I woke up while I was panicking about what to do with the evidence? If I'd woken up earlier, before he died, would I have felt disappointed?
TL;DR Derek is a prick and I had a realistic dream that I strangled him to death.
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