I actually have dreams that happen to become real. But I don't consider myself any label.
So I wrote this poem in a more extreme version.

I see my Mother Murdered
I see my Father Fried
I see my Brother Burned
And my Sister Slaughtered.

I can't belive it's real
I won't belive it's real
It looks so alive.

I see Myself being chased
By twenty Men
With Clubs, pipes, and fists.

I run until I am in pain
As they bear down upon me
I fall.
I'm beaten, clubbed and thrown.

I wake up in a cold sweat.
I discover that none of this has happened.
Not Yet.