The same dream came again, and it woke John from his sleep. He turned and looked at the bedside digital clock. It read 4:00 a.m.

His throat was dry, and he felt beads of sweat on his forehead. His shirt felt wet too. John did sweat a lot, but this felt like a cold sweat.

He lay down for a while, feeling paralyzed.

John slowly rose from his bed, trying to shake off the initial uneasiness and rationalize that it was just a dream, nothing else.

He went to the restroom, washed his face, looked at himself in the mirror, and then went back to bed, trying to fall asleep again.

The shrill sound of his alarm woke John up. He looked at the clock; it read 6:30 a.m. Turning the alarm off, he slowly got up and started his morning routine.

As he drove to work and, as usual, got stuck in traffic, he looked up in his rearview mirror and noticed a car behind him. It looked familiar, but before he could think it through, cars moved in front of him, and other thoughts entered his mind, pushing the thought away.

The day moved on as it always did—meetings, deadlines, and work. Like any other day, John was the last person still working in the office. It was late, and as the day's fatigue began to set in, John realized it was time to leave. He shut down his workstation and headed toward his car, greeting the security staff along the way.

John started the car and turned on his favorite sports talk show. It was this that kept John going. He knew he didn't have to deal with rush-hour traffic anymore.

Relaxed, he started driving, wondering if people drove faster when they knew there would be traffic ahead or slower. He smiled to himself, realizing how silly the thought was.

As he reached the first signal, John stopped at the red light and, out of habit, looked up into his rearview mirror.

As he looked up, he noticed the car. It made John a little uneasy, and he looked again. It was the same car he had seen that morning.

Uneasy, John drove on as the signal turned green. He kept glancing at the rearview mirror. The car seemed to be following him, and his uneasiness began to grow.

John increased his speed while keeping an eye on the car in his rearview mirror. Diverting from his normal route, he turned onto a side street and proceeded quickly toward the freeway.

The car disappeared as he took the ramp to the freeway. Feeling relieved, John focused on the radio, but his mind kept asking the same question: where had he seen that car before?

As the drive became easier with less traffic on the freeway, John relaxed and tried to focus on the talk show. The commentator was explaining his team's chances of winning the group stage this year and advancing to the knockout rounds.

As he became immersed in the show, he suddenly noticed the glare of headlights in his rearview mirror. It gave him a jolt, and he looked again. It was the same car, approaching at a steady speed. He quickly changed lanes to see if the car would continue past him or follow him.

The car followed.

John's heart rate increased.

Trying to think things through, John moved into the rightmost lane and considered his next move.

John's mind raced. He decided he would take a sudden exit and try to shake the car when no other vehicles were around. It was late, and traffic on the freeway was light.

John calculated the exit he would take. He deliberately slowed down, allowing the gap between his car and the one behind him to close. His plan was simple: make a sudden exit at the last moment, leaving the other driver with little time to react and follow him.

If the car still managed to follow, he knew exactly what he would do. A Walmart sat just off the exit, and he would pull into its parking lot.

As he prepared to take the exit, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His throat went dry. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and swerved toward the exit.

To his utter disbelief, the car did not swerve. It felt as if something had locked the steering wheel in place, preventing him from taking the exit. He lifted his foot off the brake pedal, but there was no change in speed.

Now John was sweating. He could feel the cold sweat running down his face. His mind raced, and then it hit him.

This was the same car from his dream.

Horrified, he remembered how the dream ended for him. His grip loosened on the steering wheel. The car seemed to be driving itself, and the other car continued to follow. John felt his body grow stiff.

Terrified, John realized the car had taken the exit and was heading toward the scrapyard from his dream. Panic surged through him as he recognized every turn. This was exactly how the dream had unfolded.

The car drove itself through the gates of the yard and came to a stop.

The doors swung open.

Before John could react, an unseen force yanked him from his seat.

Now the car stood right in front of him, its headlights glaring and its engine producing an ominous growl. John felt trapped. Standing before the car, he felt like a man facing a wild bull, its horns lowered and ready to charge.

John closed his eyes, anticipating the end. Moments from his life flashed before him like a series of photographs. Despair set in as he realized this was the moment when he always woke up from the dream.

But there was no waking up now.

This was not a dream.

It was the dream coming true.

He realized the car was about to run him down. Mustering every ounce of courage, he opened his eyes.

The car had started moving toward him.

As he struggled to decide whether to leap out of the way or run, he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. His own car had started moving.

John glanced toward it in disbelief.

The car accelerated.

Then it accelerated again.

Before he could react, his car slammed into the other vehicle.

The collision was deafening.

The impact threw John several meters through the air before he crashed onto the ground. The force knocked the breath out of him, and darkness momentarily swallowed his vision.

When he opened his eyes again, both cars were engulfed in flames.

Pain shot through his body as he dragged himself across the scrapyard. His mind screamed at him to get away.

Move.

Leave.

Now.

He crawled toward the gate, every movement a struggle.

As he finally reached the edge of the yard, he looked back.

Thick black smoke spiraled into the night sky.

His heart pounded.

Then he noticed something strange.

The smoke seemed to be taking shape.

A face.

John stared.

It was his mother.

She was smiling.

The world around him faded.

John lost consciousness.

John woke up two days later in a hospital. A nurse looked at him and asked him a few questions. Exhausted, he answered what he could before closing his eyes again.

For the next few days, he drifted in and out of consciousness. By the fifth day, he finally began to feel better.

The police came and asked him what had happened.

John told them he did not know.

How he had ended up in the scrapyard and how the two cars had collided remained a mystery.

On the seventh day, a detective arrived. After some brief conversation, he pulled up a chair beside John's bed.

"John, we finally identified the other car," he said.

John listened silently.

"The car belonged to a serial killer. He used it to abduct and murder his victims."

A chill ran through John's body.

The detective continued.

"Twelve years ago, you were the key witness who helped us identify that car. You spotted it while driving home one evening and provided the information that led us to him."

Fragments of memory began to surface in John's mind.

"The killer was sentenced to death," the detective said. "The sentence was carried out two days ago."

John felt his stomach tighten.

"The strange thing is," the detective continued, "the car was being stored in the police impound lot. It disappeared on the same day the execution took place."

A shiver ran down John's spine.

The detective had no explanation.

Neither did John.

After the detective left, John closed his eyes.

Then he remembered his mother's last words.

"I will always be beside you."

A warmth spread through him.

For the first time since the nightmare began, John felt at peace.

For the first time in a very long time, he felt lighter.

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