Perspective: First person and Third

I’m in some kind of gift shop with a few people I know. Everything from colorful glassware to unique figurines line the shelves. Light comes brightly in through the windows at such an angle that it could be close to sunset. I don’t bother looking outside though, my attention is on my immediate surroundings. I travel around the shop for a time until I had seen almost everything. I am then approached by my sister. She hands me a book with a smile and some offhand remark on how interesting it was. Out of  slight interest, I open it. The book starts out as a simple novel with a few illustrations but does not stay that way. After a few sentences I am observing it in person.

The dream has shifted.

A young boy of around 14 lives in the countryside with his parents. The house was not too far from a city but it was private and peaceful. A giant oak tree stands outside of their moderately sized house and an old wooden play fort had been built into its lower branches. The young boy had built it with his father. A small herb garden with a few sunflowers also stood out in front edged with bricks the color of sea glass. It was a day like any other but something was wrong. His parents were on edge. The boy had been asked to stay inside while his parents kept watch out front from the top of the play fort. His mother was armed with a crossbow and his father a long gun. They mutter to each other in hushed tones out of earshot of the boy inside. His mother is also enscribing a mysterious array of symbols on the ground. The boy watches them off and on throughout the next night and into the morning before he falls asleep.

The next morning he is awoken by two gun shots. That was not his father’s gun. He knew what had happened immediately but was given no time to process before the front door was thrown open. A man in all black stood there holding a sniper rifle. He pulled out a knife with a sigh and stabbed the boy through the heart. The boy crumples to the ground. The intruder then turns to leave but pauses. Something makes him turn back around. The boy is getting back up and appears confused yet completely unharmed. The intruder lowers his gun at the kid and fires. This time he waits. The same thing happens again. At the same time the boy hears the voice of his mother.

“We will save you as many times as you need. Be brave and go visit your uncle. We won’t leave you.”

The intruder pins the boy down and investigates the location of the damage after pulling up his shredded shirt. Absolutely no visible damage. He then lets the boy up.

“I wasn’t paid enough for this”, he muttered before leaving without another word.

The boy stood there for a few minutes before racing outside. No trace of his parents remained where they had been on watch except the weapons they carried and clothes they wore. The symbol array they had been working on now appeared charred into the ground. After seeing all this he ran straight to his uncle’s house without stopping. He ran until his lungs and legs ached.

I could continue the story but that would make it a writing exercise instead of a dream log entry as I then woke up. The rest will be up to you guys to fill in!