Nightmare

I was woken up this morning by the sound of my own screams. It startled me, I was drenched in sweat with tears streaming down my face. Still shaking, I looked around my living room, where I had fallen asleep, for signs that it might have been real. It wasn't.
It was vivid, I had been in my kitchen doing dishes and heard the front door open. When I looked up, I saw the face of a boy our crew picked up last summer. A 14 year old kid who had attempted suicide by putting a gun to his chin. He didn't succeed. In the dream, his face had been haphazardly stapled back together. I pleaded with him to not hurt me, but he continued his advance, laughing. I stumble back and hear a shrill cry. Behind me, a baby that hadn't made it when her mother's placenta ruptured enroute to the hospital was lying blue on the ground. I scoop it up and try to get away from the boy, while trying to give the baby mouth-to-mouth. As I run towards the balcony, a hand latches onto my arm. Its the woman who died of liver cancer, the yellow, moaning woman. She's holding me where I stand and awkwardly stumbling closer to me. A fire starts in the kitchen. They're all laughing at me now, the fire gets bigger and I'm trapped. I can see a man outside, for some reason his presence is comforting even though I don't recognize him. I keep thinking that if I could just get to him, it might be okay. He reaches for me despite the huge distance between us but flames surround me and he disappears. I scream.
I wake up.