For the past couple months I have been having the same nightmare and it is really starting to get to me. I remember the sequences in it as they happen, the people and/or characters in it. I will try to share them as I remember it. I will write it as a script or song (the nightmare is like a music video when I dream it.)

I will use { } to show people in it, I will use [ ] to show scene or action happening. The song that plays is "not your kind of people" by garbage https://youtu.be/KckCsw_JyJI


{Ryan Sharp/sterling pinion}
[He is a pony ala MLP: FIM as am I the filly I used Amethyst Apple. He is standing above me with a cruel grin on his muzzle.]
We are not your kind of people, you seem kind of phoney, everything's a lie.

{Darlene Baker, my now deceased mother}
[She is 26 and I am 8, she is sitting on a couch smoking pot with friends and laughing at me as I sit rubbing my very sore violated bottom.]
We are not your kind of people, something in your makeup don't see eye to eye.


{Friends and fellow pony fans who I used to speak to on Skype most of which were teenagers at the time.}
[The friends and I are in a video chat on Skype, we are ponies]
We are not your kind of people, don't want to be like you ever in our lives.


{Various kids I knew in elementary and jr high school}
[I am a little boy and they are in a circle around me, pushing me around and hitting me.]
We are not your kind of people, we fight when you start talking, there's nothing but white noise.


[I am 10 and am punched by my drunk stepfather in the nose and then pushed into a dark closet alone and I hear all of the people mentioned above laughing and having fun as I furiously bang on the door with my 10 year old fists crying the "ahhh's"]
Ahhh....ahhh....ahhh....ahhh....


[I break open the door and I see myself as different ages ranging from 8 to an adult walking around trying to talk to people I knew or know, but they completely ignore the various versions of me.]
Running around trying to fit in, wanting to be loved, it doesn't take much for someone to shut you down.



[The scene shifts to me as a 15 year old, I am walking down a snowy Street alone with a look of anger on my face.]
When you build a shell, build an army in your mind,


[I now see some very kind people trying to hug and comfort me and be with me, but I try to quickly get away from them]
You can't sit still, and you don't like hanging round the crowd, they don't understand.


{Thelma Baker, my long dead grandmother}
[She is an angel and an old lady with a very loving smile. She is sitting on my bed stroking my adult hair as I sing in my sleep.]
You dropped by as I was sleeping, you came to see the whole commotion.


[I then wake up and sit up quickly, but am alone.]
And when I woke up I started laughing, the jokes on me for not believing.


{The entire cast of people I mentioned so far.}
[All of the people in the dream are in rows on each side of me singing as a 8 year old me walks down a path wearing only Jammie bottoms. My body has many bruises on it, a big burn scar on my shoulder, my nose looks as if it had been punched, my hair is messed up. I am crying uncontrollably filled with abject fear and terror as I walk slowly towards a huge towering pyre that surrounds the gallows.]
We are not your kind of people, speak a different language, we see through your lies.

[I climb the gallows and stand as the adult hate filled me puts a noose around my 8 year old self's neck as everyone sings,]
We are not your kind of people, won't be cast as demons, creatures you despise.


[ The lever is pulled, the floor drops out from under me and I start to hang. That is when I wake up from the nightmare.]