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"Always."

The word echoes in my mind.

Suddenly, I hear a loud noise! Startled, my eyes shoot open and I instinctively reach over and shut off... my alarm clock.

I sit up in bed and look around my bedroom. My bed is against the center of the back wall. My walls and floor are dark wood panels and my writing desk, also made of a dark wood, sits in the front left corner with papers and school books scattered across it's surface. My door is in the front of my room, just a foot away from the right corner and I have a nightstand on either side of my bed. As you have probably already guessed, they are both made of dark wood. On the nightstand to my left is my journal and pen, and on the one to my right is my lamp and alarm clock.

"It was all a dream?!" I ask aloud in disbelief. "No!" I yell as I let the top half of my body fall back to the softness of my bed.

I lie there, thinking about the dream I had and how real it felt. Then, I think of him, and I picture his beautiful face in my mind once again.

Who is he? Why do I keep dreaming about him? Why did it feel so real that time? It has NEVER felt like that before! What is happening to me?!

After lying there for several minutes, my thoughts are interrupted by my mother yelling to me from downstairs.

"Lyna! Lyna! Time to get up honey!"

I groan as I get out of bed. I put on a pair of faded blue jeans, a white tank top, a floral cardigan, an off-white flower crown, and white flats.

I walk into the bathroom and wash my face. As I dry it, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and take a moment to observe. My light skin is very slightly tanned, my red hair is parted off-center, and my outfit is making my green eyes pop. My lips are covered in a pinkish-red lipstick.

I walk downstairs to see my mom cooking breakfast.

"'Morning, sweetie!" she says cheerfully.

"'Morning, mom." I respond.

"How'd ya sleep?"

"Alright, I guess. I had that dream again."

"About the boy?" she asks, sliding the eggs onto my plate.

"Yeah. This time was different though. It felt more real." I say, starting to eat.

"You must've been sleeping pretty deeply, then."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, that dream boy of yours sounds mighty fine, honey."

"Thanks, mom." I say, getting up from the table. I grab my bookbag and walk out the door to go to school.
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Christine watched as her daughter, Lyna, walked out the front door. After waiting a few moments to make sure she was gone, Christine picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Christine." a deep, manly voice said through the phone.

"The dreams are gettin' more vivid." said Christine.

"Where is the girl, now?"

"School. She just left."

"Understood." the man responded. Then, he hung up the phone.