“Oh, I hate this dream,” Danielle muttered. Even though she was dreaming, she could tell she was dreaming. And it was a dream she’d had before, but more like a nightmare. It always started with being chased. It always ended with a dark, cold, cavernous room. In between, there were flashes, scenes, faces. Things just beyond the reach of memory. It was the in-between of her dream that she couldn’t remember. She’d had it several times this summer, in the weeks following the end of seventh grade. Danielle wasn’t sure if it was normal to have strange dreams at her age. When she’d mentioned it to her mother, she’d been told not to worry about it and something about hormones. Still, she hated this dream, especially when in it, and she’d wake up breathless and sweaty. She never could remember why she was breathless. The dream always ended in the cool cavern. Yet, the chasing ended somewhere earlier in the dream. Or did it? It was confusing.
With a start, Danielle woke up. It was dark. Too dark. She must have awakened earlier than normal.
Why aren’t the birds singing?she wondered. It was cold. “That’s weird. I’m not sweaty,” she said quietly. Thinking she’d thrown off her covers during the dream chase, she reached down to the foot of her bed to grab her blankets. There were no blankets. And she wasn’t in her bed.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish