Francesco was an ordinary man. A modest family man, with a blue-collar job, a house, a small car, a wife and two children.

Nothing made him special in everyday life, but he was when he slept.

Initially it was little more than normal coincidences. He still remembers the first time: he had dreamed of wetting the bed. A vivid, real dream, as the bed had really been wet.

He also had normal dreams, so he had had a hard time understanding the difference, then he learned to recognize «vivid dreams,» as he called them.

They always had the same characteristics: real settings, real and known people and always third person dreams. Even when he dreamed of himself, he saw himself from the outside.

Often they were small things. Once he dreamed of entering a shop, seeing a new blue jacket, putting his hand in his pocket and finding 10 euros there. It did not seem so strange to find money in a new jacket, as it seemed strange to him to find that jacket and that coin in that shop. That was the bill, The paper money wasn't new, and in the dream, he had seen it well.

Over time he learned to control dreams. He could decide more than something, at least the "path" that the dream took. Let's say, however, that driving his dreams he could be considered more a drunk driver than an experienced driver.

His family was aware of this trait, but joked about it. They soon realized it was something that made little practical sense. Dreams were still... dreams.

«You could dream of the winning lottery combination,» his wife once told him. He believed it possible and even her, but never came in a dream to play in the corner tobacconist the ticket.

From then on he could perhaps check the details: his wife had chosen a red car rather than a yellow one; his daughter's dress for the school party had been the cheapest and the nasty colleague actually felt ill after the pepperoni.

Details. Many and editable.

Then there was the hard part: his wife hadn't avoided the accident that destroyed the car; the daughter had actually been dumped by her boyfriend at the school party and the obnoxious colleague had actually taken the promotion before him.

Important facts. As many and unchangeable.

That night Francesco immediately understood that it was a vivid dream. He had gone to work for his night shift. Apparently an evening like any other, but at midnight his wife called him. She had shortness of breath, cold sweats and he was forced to ask to be replaced. He waited for the change and took his car to go home.

A few blocks from the house the car stopped. He turned the key two, three times, but it did not start. He picked up the phone to call his wife, who no longer answered. The car battery abandoned him for good. The date, why hadn't he looked at it? He knew that the first thing to do was to try to understand what period the vivid dream was referring to. With Low Battery the date was reset. It had been a quiet night so far.

The street was deserted, lit only by street lamps and with no shops opened or noise, but his house was close and his wife was not well. He looked at his watch, but he knew well it was a memory of his father. An old clock with hands and manual winding. He always took care to charge him, but he could only tell him the time. It was one in the morning when he got out of the car.

Immediately the city became darker, the night darker and the street, which he had traveled thousands of times, became bleak.

A figure began to follow him and he began to run. The figure dressed like death: scythe, cloak, white mask, everything.

Francesco thought of an assault, perhaps to rob him. A trivial robbery of a fool, which would have led to a booty of a few euros. He began to try to control the dream, perhaps trying to make him go the wrong way or tor anyone to come, but he immediately realized he could not and ran like he had never done.

He stumbled on one of the park tree roots sticking out of the sidewalk and broke his leg. The figure was getting closer and closer. He tried it all out. He took his wallet and phone and threw them a few meters in front of his robber. Now he could see him well. Skull mask, cloak and scythe was not fake.

«Take what you want, but don't hurt me!»

The other passed over the objects ignoring them. Slowly he raised the scythe and prepared to strike.

"A serial killer" Francesco thought, but he didn't want to die, not even in a dream. He knew that by concentrating he could wake up and he did.

He woke up in his bed, agitated and frightened, but was frightened to death by what he saw.

The figure stood at the foot of his bed and looking at him.

«We'll see you, one of these nights, at one,» he said before disappearing.