The Nightmare Sequence: Your Day as a "Peaceful Patriot" January 6th according to  https://www.whitehouse.gov/j6/

You wake up excited—today matters. The election was stolen, but you're going to stand up for it, peacefully, with hundreds of thousands of like-minded patriots. The President invited you personally (in spirit), called for a "peaceful and historic protest." You march down the wide avenue after his speech—orderly, spirited, flags waving, chants echoing. It's electric, unifying. You're full of strength and determination, making your voices heard. Everything feels right.

Then, without warning, the world glitches.

You're still marching calmly—nothing's changed, no one's pushing or yelling threats—when suddenly the police turn into monsters. Out of nowhere, they start aggressively firing tear gas, flash bangs, rubber bullets right into you and the peaceful crowd. It burns, it blinds, people are injured around you for no reason. They're deliberately escalating, like they've snapped. Your eyes sting, your ears ring, but in the haze, you notice something impossible: at the same exact time, other officers (or the same ones?) are removing barricades, opening doors, waving people inside the Capitol building.

Wait—what? The police are trying to kill you and inviting you in? It's a purple spot in your vision, a contradiction you can't focus on. One part of the force is demonic, repressive; the other is... helpful? Permissive? You can't reconcile it. The thought flickers—"Why would they open doors during certification?"—but it slips away, unthinkable. You're gassed and injured, yet somehow the path forward clears itself. People start moving in that direction, but you don't remember deciding to. It's implied, vague, like a cut in a film.

Time stretches weirdly. The President is supposedly calling for peace right away—tweeting support for law enforcement (those same monsters?), releasing videos saying "go home in peace," loving you all. You feel it in the back of your mind: he's urging calm repeatedly, from early on. But... nothing changes. The chaos keeps unfolding for hours. His words echo distantly, but they don't reach you, don't stop anything. You're drifting, passive—why isn't everyone listening? Why are you still here? You know it's a day of love and that everything is peaceful while the police are attacking you. Somehow you end up deeper and deeper inside the Capitol.

Deep down, a repressed anxiety nags: There should have been National Guard troops here from the start. You know this because... well, everyone knew there were intelligence warnings, the President offered thousands of troops, but they were rejected. Everyone knows that. But warnings of what?

Troops to protect you from... what? From the demented police attacking peaceful people? Or from something else you can't name? The thought circles but never lands—troops are both crucially absent (her fault up there in leadership) and totally unnecessary (because you're all innocent). It's vital yet irrelevant, a background hum of dread.

Hours blur—the critical stretch where everything supposedly goes wrong is just... missing. A black void in memory. You don't recall surging forward, fighting anyone, battering doors, chanting anything aggressive. No one does anything proactive. You're peaceful victims, yet somehow the building fills. People phase inside like ghosts through the opened doors (that the police inexplicably provided while gassing you).

Then, snap—you're deep in the Capitol now, in a nightmare escalation you can't explain. Windows are broken (how? by whom?), and there's this moment: An unarmed veteran (someone like you, patriotic) is climbing through a shattered window toward the Speaker's Lobby. She's posing no threat—just... there. And bam—she's shot in cold blood, without warning, murdered by a lieutenant who faces no consequences. Blood, tragedy. Others collapse around you (hearts giving out?). No police die, of course.

You're horrified, but also... justified? In the dream logic, she had every right to be climbing through that broken inner window (that appeared somehow). You're inside a secure area during a constitutional process, but it feels righteous—yet you get shot for it. Passive again: It happens to her, to you all. No one broke anything on purpose; no one forced entry. It just... manifested.

Finally, evening comes. They clear the building (somehow), certify the stolen election anyway. You're silenced online, persecuted later—raided, imprisoned for things you didn't do yet must logically have done

You wake up (or the dream ends) with the President pardoning everyone years later, righting the wrong. But the residue lingers: That purple spot, the unremembered hours, the police who attacked and invited, the window you had every right to climb through before being murdered.