Once when I was a child, I fell asleep in the woods and had a very particular dream.
It's been fairly established by my friends, that I was a pretty outdoorsy kid.
Dad would often take the family out on gatherings. Pick nicks, fishing, apple picking, and hunting.
Mom was pretty squeamish about blood, so she oftened skipped the hunting or fishing trips.
My Brother would join for most activities, but he didn't have the patience for hunting. He'd usually skip it if he could.
Hunting trips became a sort of tradition for my Dad and I, since we were the only ones that went.
The typical hunting trip was simple. Dad would look up a random forest or wilderness area that had the game we wanted. We drove over, set up a camp and waited.
We were mildly successful at best, but Dad was never down about it. He had a catchphrase for whenever we didn't get anything. "The catch doesn't matter, it's the experience. Spending time with loved ones, that's the real catch."
Very corny and goofy, but I loved how comforting it was.
It was on a particular hunting trip that I had that strange dream.
The trip unfolded as usual. Dad said the game we were hunting. We drove out of the city, into the wild. Walked a couple and set up camp.
Dad was always careful when taking me hunting. He knew all the rules and regulations. Carried a medical kit with him at all times, never let me shoot the rifle, and made sure we always wore our orange vests.
Curious, I asked him why we always wore orange.
He said "It let's other people know, we're people too, and it makes you easier to find if you ever get lost."
We waited for a good long while. Dad had set up a tree stand and went up high with his rifle.
I was down in the tent. For some reason I felt really tired that day. Maybe lack of sleep, too much gaming. Whatever it was I found myself falling asleep in the tent.
I found myself waking up in the middle of the woods. In the middle of a dirt road of some sort. Looking around, I didn't see my tent or my Dad, or anyone.
The trees seemed tall, and the forest was endless. I could sense something in the air.
The forest seemed quiet. Not the kind of quiet of nature. No, there was no sound. No rustling of leaves, or chirping of birds. Not even the wind. It was if the world was put on mute. The only thing I could hear was my breathing.
I looked around once more, and then at myself. Nothing seemed to be wrong, and I still had my orange vest.
I stood up and began walking down the dirt trail. I walked slow at first, looking at the trees that passed me by.
I noticed that despite being trees, there was something off about them. They looked too perfect. I know it sounds odd, but they didn't sway as normal trees would. Everything they did seemed picturesque.
Then I hear something break the silence, the breaking of leaves and twigs. Heavy steps, approaching, I felt the urge to run.
But before I started sprinting, I heard a familiar voice. "Hey Kiddo."
That's Dad, but for some reason I didn't want to turn around. It felt so odd. That was his voice, but I just couldn't.
"Son, what's wrong? Turn around." There it was again. It was perfect. Too perfect, something was wrong. I didn't know what myself, but it was wrong.
I brace myself, and with every fiber of my being, I turn around.
It was him, standing there, he towered over me, but it was him, my Dad. I let out a sigh of relief. I looked him over, he wore the same clothes, same hunting outfit and even the medical kit.
"Kiddo why'd you run away from the camp? Come, let's go home." He said, calmly. He gave me a smile, but it wasn't warm. It looked like someone forced to smile for a photograph.
I felt strange, but who else was going to get me home? Who else do I trust?
We walked for some time. The walk was quiet. No remarks, no bonding, no nothing. The silence was back, more oppressive than before.
I looked at him again. Just to be sure, his outfit was the same. Posture, the way he walked. The way he held his the rifle. The only thing that I noticed was that he didn't have his orange vest.
It was strange, maybe it got tagged on a tree-line when he was looking for me and he didn't bother to grab it. I wanted to ask, but something in the back of my head told me not to break the silence.
We walked deeper and deeper into the woods. I was getting tired, my breathing started to get more labored. He didn't seem to be. In fact, he didn't make a single sound.
The tree line broke into a clearing. It was a strange massive circle. a large opening surrounded by walls of trees.
Suddenly the silence was broken again. "Kiddo, I was tracking a deer. Could you go over and check."
"I thought we were going home?" I asked confused.
"We'll go home when the hunt is over, okay?" He responded.
I tried to rationalize the response. I nodded regrettably. Before beginning to walk into the clearing. It appeared empty.
Following behind me where heavy footsteps. They didn't sound like him. They didn't sound like anyone.
"Dad? I don't see anything." I asked worriedly.
"Can't you hear? He's sleeping." He said.
I couldn't hear anything, only the sound of my own breathing, even as they quickened.
"He's scared now. His heart is racing." He spoke as if in response to something. I felt a pit in my stomach the further I walked.
I continued walking until I came across a large burrow in the ground. I looked down into it. It was deep, almost like a network, I could only make out some small moving shapes, but nothing defined.
"There's nothing here." I say almost too quiet.
"There is you now." He said in a voice, not his own.
I could hear the sliding of the bolt on the rifle, spinning around quickly, before I could get a look.
Bang!
I woke up. Back in my tent. I yelled, and screamed and cried. My Father immediately. Was surprised, consoling me. He asked me what happened. I told him about the nightmare.
He seemed shocked and held me for a moment as I cried.
After that we packed our things, and decided to head home. I looked over him. A sense of relief washed over me.
As we got in the car I felt the need to ask him a particular question.
"Hey Dad, Where's your vest?"
"Ohh I forgot to bring one." He responded.
I never went on hunting trips after that. Something about them just felt off. My Dad seemed fine. He did everything normally. No one seemed to notice anything, but I couldn't shake that uneasy feeling. I was never as close as I was with him. Even as I got older, the dread never left me.
Years later, when my parents passed and I got the old house and their belongings. I decided to rummage through my Dad's old stuff.
I never did find that orange vest.