I have a memory of a particularly vivid and disturbing dream I had as a boy, almost Silent Hill-like:
I was at my grandmother's house who lived in a large apartment on the fifth floor of a building where my mother currently lives.
I remember watching cartoons in front of the TV, when my grandmother, a petite and very sweet woman, asked me to go and buy her a pound of boiled ham from the delicatessen in the market below the house.
She gave me the money, after which, once I left the building I noticed a heavy atmosphere. The sky was ochre, and the tree-lined avenue in front of the house was completely deserted....
Driven by this deep discouragement that assailed me, I decided to get on my bicycle to go to the shopkeeper....
I began to pedal but the stifling air of that afternoon drained my strength, to the point of pedaling with unspeakable fatigue, advancing with incredible slowness...
My breath was short, and as I advanced I realized that it was not only the avenue that was deserted, but the whole city....
Arriving at the marketplace, which was also deserted, I decided to return home, and once again, caught by the discouragement that made me advance so slowly, panting, I wondered how long it had been since my grandmother asked me out...
Perhaps it had been hours, perhaps days, and once I got back, my grandmother's apartment was also deserted...after which I woke up drenched in sweat....
It was excruciating, and fortunately I never had such dreams again....