So I had this dream the other day. It seemed like a movie.

This was in the third person point of view of someone I never met before. I was, for the most part a spectator, just watching, as all of this happened.

The sun is starting to set on this cool afternoon, rain hitting hard on the street. The sounds of city all around, sirens of police zooming by in this busy city. The large city was much like New York City but I am not sure where it really was.
A young boy, about the age of 11 or 12 hops off a bus running up to an apartment build not far from the stop. Going to the 3rd floor of the building, he enters apartment number 307. As he enters a older man in is 30s or so yells from the other side of the apartment. “Where the hell have you been!” says the man. I assume this man is the boy’s father.
The boy enters slowly. The man has a bottle in his hand and is clearly drunk. He then starts to yell and call the boy many vulgar things. The boy just standing there, dripping wet, not saying a word. By this point the man started getting physical, hitting the boy, punching and kicking. The boy then says just loud enough for him to hear. “I hate you.”
“What?” says the man.
“I HATE YOU!” the boy said at the top of him lungs.
The boy then breaks for the front door, then the stairs, then out back in the streets. Raining even harder than before. He keeps running, street after street. Out of breath the boy stops. Nothing but the sound of rain and hard breathing of the boy can be heard. Suddenly he hard sounds coming from the abandon warehouse not far from where he was now standing. Being a curious boy he started to head towards the entrance.
The boy enters the warehouse to find it very wet, holes in the roof, and water dripping in. Slowly heading more into the interior he then spots something, a glimmer. Walking up to it he sees that there is a old rusting sword sticking out from the ground. The ground around the sword was soft and wet with green plant life growing around it, as if the floor was completely gone. The boy put his hand out to grab the sword. As he grabs the sword suddenly I could see what he saw. A flash, a vision of grim and bloody ancient warfare. At this point my view was once again in the 3rd person point of view. Falling backwards, screaming as if in great pain the boy grabs his head. Slowly looking back up at the old sword, he sees blood dripping down it. He quickly gets up and starts running for the exit. Slipping and falling hard to the ground. Lying there, shaking not from the cold but from fear. Out of no where a voice calls out to the boy, telling him to come closer. The then turns and looks at the sword.
The dream this just ends there. I have never had a dream like this, a dream that I remembered in such detail. All of the other dream that I have had had been in pieces.