I woke up at three in the morning from a dead sleep to the sound of my mother calling me from downstairs. When I pried my tired eyes open the yelling was still going. Over and over she screamed for me. I rolled over to my left to put both feet on the cold floor, and I see her standing there. Staring at me.
The screaming never stopped. She was in a white nightgown, their was blood stained in the abdomen of the gown. “MOTHER? MOTHER?!” I screamed frantically. I thrusted toward her and poof she vanished in a white cloud of dust. I was standing where she was sobbing and covering my ears from the echoing of her continuing screams. I looked to the other side of the dusty room and saw her yet again, screaming and clenching her blood soaked stomach. She appeared out of nowhere…confused and distressed I ran over to her and reached for her cold hands, once again she disappeared, leaving me. Suddenly, I looked down at my hand, the hand I briefly got to touch her with, blood dripped from them. I covered my face with my hands and felt the warm liquid consume my face, I was drowning. I gasped for breath, but no air could come through…”breathe, breathe.” I told myself.
Loudly, I coughed and gasped allowing the sweet oxygen to fill my lungs, I sat up and looked around. I was in my room, safe, it was just another nightmare. I breathed deep, attempting to calm myself and wrap my head around what the nightmare, that I have had everyday for the past month, meant. I wiped the tears still falling from my eyes away and allowed my feet to touch the floor. I gasped again, as the dream flashed back in my mind. The cold, terrified feeling I had was indescribable. I inhaled through my nose and smelled the sweet aroma of my father making breakfast. After making sure it wasn’t noticeable that I had been crying I walked swiftly downstairs. The sound of chattering and sizzling in the kitchen gave me a feeling of safeness and comfort. I looked around my eyes searching for my mother but then I realized that I had forgotten what had happened, just a short month ago…
My younger brother, Jacob, who was only 13 and my father were both standing in the kitchen and greeted me good morning with smiles on their faces. They had no idea about the dreams. “Well, I’m going on a walk…” I said solemnly with a hot piece of bacon in my hand. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” My dad said concerned. I simply nodded indicating that I was okay and walked out the door into the dampness of the morning.
Of course I am fine, why wouldn’t I be, my mother only disappeared…ugh. Should I tell them about the dreams? These are not just nightmares, they are telling me something…I wish I knew what… Am I crazy?
My mind raced with the question. Was I really crazy, or was I just starting to see the truth?