Of some of the morbid nightmares I've been having lately, this one is by far the worst. Mainly because it was so real. 

I grew up on 182nd RD as a child. An old rural route that dead-ended right to neighbor's (directly west of us) house. 

I had moved out 5 years ago, and I am living happily on 110th Ave. directly south of Interstate 15  (inspiration for my previous story). 

Yet, I still dream about that old house. It is running at about 125 years old right now. I've had my memories there, a 7 year old child with 82 acres of imaginary kingdom to play at. Up until 12, I've imagined my kingdom as many different trends of my young life until I moved out. 
My parents still own the place, and I have yet to inherit the property when I start my own family. 

I was laying awake in my old second-story room. I saw a few cars heading up 182nd, and stopping at the small highway 1/2 mile away. So wondering what the problem was, I rode my bicycle up the sleepy road, to the fog-ridden 21st Road. 

The amber pole light was shining on a small poker table on the far lane. The occasional 3am traffic had to pass them carefully. 
I joined the strangers. But they didn't acknowledge my existence. They carried on talking. 
I suddenly heard a shuffling noise. I look to my left (north) and saw a man crawling on the pavement. I watched in horror as I realized he had been brutally torn in half, yet still crawling with bony arms southward into the darkness of distance. 

One of the men looked at me. He said as he stared at me, "And thus, why you shouldn't be on highways this early. Nobody ever leaves, and everybody must travel the highway in vain, searching for freedom. Oblivious to their own fall."

Fear struck me as the lamp went out, and the poker table, along with its occupants, vanished. 
I desperately search for my bike. I am blinded by a single body of light, and thrown by sheer force onto the side of the road. I recollect my whole life. I see every second of it. Flashing beautifully in front of my eyes. 
The flashes turn into a steady movie, and the man's words echo loud and clear, but more satanic. I see images of every victim of the man's prophecy in detail. And I see their fate, they must crawl on this road, under some impression that they will reach freedom. Sadly, they don't know that they are suffering in Hell. 
The images clear my head, and joined by a pleasant breeze, the sight of stars now calms me down. I know I must go home. But I can't feel my legs. 
I began crawling. 


Author's note:
This was an actual nightmare that has left me tangled in sweaty sheets when I sprang awake. The roads mentioned in this story are real, and the bit of background history described is also real.