He tried to do everything in his power to fight against the force that lay within his hand, but he was helpless as the trigger pulled, and the bullet pierced his skull. The man wasn’t quite aware of what happened after that. He swam through a sea of semi-oblivion, not unlike sleep, scattered memories flashing through his eyes like dreams. He found himself within his house all that time, cooking his lunch, doing his laundry, playing his piano, every other activity he would do in his home.
The furniture seemed to be different, disappeared in some cases, replaced in others, sometimes moved. Sometimes, he would find one of his paintings had disappeared, or that the wallpaper was different. This set off some little alarm in what remained of his mind, but nothing seemed to change all that much for him
In one sort of dream, he had come back from work. As he walked inside, he dropped his briefcase, shed his suit, and went to play his piano and calm. Wait, what piano? Where was the piano?! His senses jolted awake, the room became clear, as did the sounds. The house, without his knowledge, had been redecorated, and in the room nearby, he heard the sound of some teenagers, in his living room, eating snacks and playing some asinine game! He stormed into the room, his fury burning within him, and the room those teens were in shook violently.
The man didn’t touch them, nor did he speak. He only screamed, he unleashed his fury in that one breath of his. In that scream, the doors flew open, the room trembled more and more, and the television screamed with him, its high pitched screech cut off only by a shower of sparks from the speakers as they burst out.
Back into his sleep the man went, but this was a restless, angry sleep. He lashed out at everything he saw in his dreams, no matter how little he understood it. He began to revel in the fear he felt he was causing, the revenge he was taking. They were trespassers, just like the murderer who had come in his house, the one with which the man had wrestled with the gun. The trespasser who had put a bullet through his skull, he had gotten away, but these new ones would not win. He would make them pay.
The man continued like this, until his dreams contained a new trespasser, who began walking through the house. The man was in another room, when his senses awoke to the man’s painful presence. The man’s nostrils burned with the odor of sage, and his head ached from the sound of the new trespasser’s strange words. He walked to the room, to see the new stranger waving the burning herb about.
Fury once again filled the man. He was causing the man pain, trying to drive him from his own abode! He ran to the stranger and went into him. The stranger’s will was strong, but the words had ceased to flow from his mouth, and he was helpless to stop his hand from shoving the burning herbs down his throat. He wanted to move, to scream, to force the herbs from his windpipe, but the man refused to allow it. The man grinned, as did the new stranger he inhabited, as the life slowly faded from the stranger’s body, and the stranger joined the man in the house.