The Truth Behind Dreams

Chapter 1

Light.

Darkness.

Memories.

Dreams.

Real?

Or not real?

Running, past the point of fatigue. An endless maze. Cold, grey bricks, one after the other. No way in, no way out. So strange, yet so familiar. Somewhere deep in my mind, I know this is a dream. But something else is nagging at me, telling me it means so much more.

I walk slowly, taking in my surroundings. I turn left, only to reach a dead end. I notice the far wall has a picture of someone on it. I cautiously walk towards the picture, feeling a shiver make it’s way up my spine when I see who the picture is of. My best friend, my only friend. I trace back my steps and look for another exit but once again, I find myself at a dead end. Also with a picture of someone on it. This time, that someone is my dad. I’ve never met my dad before but somehow I am certain that this is him. Just as I turn to leave, I see a flash of movement in the corner of my eye. I spin around, but no one is there. I need to get out of here fast.

The panic sets in my breathing becomes heavy. Everywhere I turn is another dead end and my mind must be playing tricks on me because the eyes of the pictures seem to follow my every move.

Finally, I make my way out the tangle of dead ends. I look around; this must be the centre of the maze.

“Mallory… Mallory?”

The whispers start off soft.

“Mallory! Why aren’t you listening to us!?”

For some reason I know exactly what happens next. Slowly, I turn around and come face to face with all the ghosts from my past. My loved ones and my enemies. They creep in closer, caging me in from all sides with looks of hunger on their faces.

Hunger for my blood.

Why?

Because I killed them.

* * *

I sit bolt upright, my breathing loud and uneven. It was a dream, just a dream. The very same dream I have been having for two years now. Only this time, it felt so real. It’s just like your average dream really, with no beginning or end, but it feels more like a memory to me and unlike other dreams I can remember the events so clearly… People begging for my help… the blood lust in their eyes. The looks in their eyes will forever haunt me. Why is it that this dream feels so real? I’m definitely not a murderer, surely I would know if I had killed someone!

In real life, I have never seen those people, or should I say ghosts, before. And yet, I knew who every single one of them was. It’s strange how my subconscious mind recognises them and my conscious mind does not.

“Mallory, are you alright?” A panicked voice asks.

I blink a few times, my eyes still adjusting to the dim lighting of the room.  I finally make out my “mother” standing in the doorway. I don’t know what to call her anymore after discovering those documents.

“It’s all right ma, I was just sleep talking again.” I assure her.

“Phew! When I heard you talking, you sounded scared. I though someone was trying to break in!”

I pulled her into a hug. “Thanks for checking up on me. But I’m fine. It was just a bad dream.”

A bad dream, or a bad memory?

As soon as mum left the room, I rushed out of bed and jotted the events of my dream down on a notebook. Knowing that somehow they are linked to the documents I found hidden in my “Mum’s” room behind the painting on the wall. The documents that explain my real parent’s death.

Or should I say murder.

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:) This is my first story y'all please enjoy xx sorry it's a short chapter

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