Shared black Dog chase in childhood Streets

"I was back in my childhood neighborhood, walking down the familiar street, when I heard the sound of claws on pavement behind me. I turned and saw them: a pack of large, black dogs, five or six of them, moving together. I ran. Past the houses I grew up beside, past the yards and the mailboxes, my breath tearing in my chest, the dogs close behind. I reached my house and lunged for the door. Just before I got inside, one of them caught my leg and sank its teeth in. I tumbled through the doorway and slammed it shut behind me. Then my 7:00 A.M. alarm went off, and I woke up in my boyfriend's bed, my heart still racing. "Sleep good?" I asked him. "Not really," he said. He told me he had dreamed he was in his old neighborhood in Seymour, and a giant black dog had chased him all the way home and bitten him on the leg. Once he was inside, it stared at him through the window and talked to him. He couldn't remember what it said. We stared at each other, both of us deeply unsettled. Neither of us has a dog, neither of us had seen a dog movie, and neither of us is afraid of dogs. A chill ran through me that stayed for hours."