I had the most messed up dream that I've had in a very long time, this morning. I don't remember everything, but it got very patchy, but there was a definite chain of events.

In the dream, the kid that my brother used to tutor in math, Patrick, was missing. The kids sister called my house, to ask if we had seen him, we hadn't.

Immediately after that, I was driving back home in my car, and was at the intersection before my block. The traffic was incredibly and bustling, which is a rarity in real life. In the center of it all was Patrick, who was apparently run over by a car, with skidmarks cutting his legs off above both knees. His face was also badly mangled.

In the next scene, I was looking at Patrick, asking him if he was alright, when some legit crackhead in a green overcoat bumped into me. I yelled at him to apologize, and he pulled a gun on me.

And then I woke up.