The bad dreams first started when I was eight. At that time, it wasn't all that surprising that I would be experiencing night terrors. After all, kids are known for their vivid, if sometimes all-too-realistic, imaginations.

It was always the same one: terror-filled sprints down a dimly-lit labyrinth of tunnels.

And always- always- I was being chased.

By whom or what had eluded me in every dream, either they were invisible or the path ahead or behind was too dark to see. That's how it always is in dreams.

But they were always there... their footsteps inches behind my own... breath ghosting over the back of my neck.

It didn't get any better when I turned nine and my mom died.

By high school, I was still having the same dream. Not every night, but more often than any sixteen year old guy with a reputation like mine to keep up would like. I didn't bother telling my dad. I mean, it's not like these dreams were interfering with my life.

Still... there were the nights that I woke up with my heart racing and my legs feeling as if I had just run a marathon.

Then I met Rukia and my entire life changed, and with that, the dreams disappeared.

Everything was at peace. For a while...

She was taken. And in a flash that split my soul in two, I was once again trapped in the endless nightmare. But this time was different.

I was strong.

I could fight.

I could win.

I started trying different things in my dreams: setting traps and fighting back. Eventually the dreams changed completely. I was still running down the same dark, stone corridors, but I was no longer in fear. The tables had turned.

I was chasing my pursuer now... My own steps shadowing their's... The sound of blood rushing in my ears as I ran.

And you know what?

It was fun.

It was liberating to finally have control and be able to vent my wildly violent emotions on this invisible stalker that haunted my dreams.

I had started chasing it with the initial goal of figuring out what it was that was trying to get me and why. I'm not sure when I gave up on that idea and switched my objectives, but sometime during one of these dreams I decided that the monster needed to die.

No. That's not quite right.

I decided that I had to kill it.

I was tired of playing this oddly flip-flopping game of cat-and-mouse. I wanted to end it.

The next time I had that dream, there was a knife in my hand. It's sharp edge winking maliciously at me. found the thing in a clearing, a sort of junction between several tunnels. I still couldn't see it, but I certainly felt its heavy presence.

A cool wind blew from behind me. I held up the knife and steadily pointed it at the figure, silently declaring my challenge.

Equally quietly, the thing fled.

The chase began.

It was so ironic to me; what had previously been my most horrifying nightmare was now the best dream I ever had.

I ran for hours, keeping the shadowed figure in my sight at all times. My feet and heart pounding rhythmically as I waited for an opportunity to strike.

It turned left... I thought as I sprinted after it. There's a dead-end in that direction. The maze of tunnels was always the same and I had long-since memorized its many twists and turns.

My lips twitched into a small smile. It was rare that I got to enjoy combat and this thrill filled my spirit with a kind of driving fire.

I turned the last bend to find the figure pinned against the wall.

"Why was I ever afraid of you?" I asked softly. The ringing echo continued to ponder the question as I stepped closer to whatever it was.

The dark haze seemed to shimmer slightly as if trembling.

"It's too late to ask why you were chasing me." I spoke with dead sincerity. Even the walls seemed to afraid to echo my voice back to me. "This is the end."

I swung the knife down into the figure.

There was a sudden flash of black and white, and a searing pain exploded in the middle of my back.

I thought you weren't supposed to get hurt in dreams...

I blinked to clear my watery vision. Breathing heavily, I realized there was nothing in front of me. The figure I had chased was gone.

Still in pain, I reached behind me and removed whatever it was that had been stuck in my back as carefully as I could. It was a knife.

My knife.

I turned to see what was behind me.

A full-length mirror stood there.

My reflection looked cold and serious, blood slowly staining clothes a deep crimson. But something wasn't quite right: The reflection's colors were wrong.

I laughed a breathy, humorless chuckle.

I had been chasing myself this entire time.

A long crack split the mirror diagonally and the ground around me shook.

My reflection reached out a hand in my direction, through the mirror. My eyes widened in confusion.

I looked past the reflection of myself, trying to see if his world was in any better state. It wasn't.

I reached out towards the mirror.

Tan and white hands grasped each other firmly as both of our worlds shattered.

We fell together and dragged each other into the darkness.

I haven't had that dream since.

• x x X * X x x •

I tried to write this in a way that it could be read from the perspective of either Ichigo or his Hollow.

I know I haven't uploaded anything in forever... I'm trying to work on several multi-chapter stories and it's not working out well for me. So I'm going to focus on one or two stories and try to get them edited and uploaded.

Thanks for reading! ^u^