Dreams

Dreaming again

                As the airplane took off, I sat in the seat, staring out of the small window. I wondered for the millionth time, how I ended up here, fleeing from those who loved me. But I didn’t have a choice, I had to leave. I knew that my friends would protest and try to stop me, but I couldn’t let that happen. I needed to get on the plane, and I needed to leave. After what seemed like hours, the plane touched down. I climbed out of my seat and into the isle way, waiting to exit.

…

“Claire! Claire, wake up!”

I awoke to my  best friend, Michael, shaking me violently.

“What? I’m awake…” I yawned, and Michael sighed in relief. I looked at him quizzically. “You were having another one of those dreams weren’t you?” he asked. I slowly nodded my head, realizing that it was in fact, just a dream.  “How did you know?” I asked, sitting up straighter.

“You usually wake up instantly after I call you, but this time you didn’t. I was shaking you for five minutes,” he paused and looked over at me, worry filling his eyes. “Why…” he said, more to himself than to me, but I heard him anyway. “Why what, Michael?”  I asked, a little concerned.  

“You haven’t had one of those dreams in such a long time, why did they have to come back, why now?” his face showed every ounce of concern he held for me at that moment.

Oh wait, you’re probably wondering what he means by ‘these types of dreams’, well let me explain a little of our history. Michael and I met when I was 13 and he was 14, three years ago. Both of my parents had passed away, and I was left on my own. Shortly after I met him, we became really close. I trusted him instantly. After a couple months, I moved in with him. Not long after, I started having these dreams. They weren’t like normal dreams, although they may sound like it. There was a difference between them. These dreams seemed so much more realistic. I was connected to the dream, in an odd way. If I was hurt in the dream, I’d wake up with an injury, and so on. These dreams usually foretold something. They were kind of like premonitions. Whatever happened in these dreams seemed to happen in life afterward, whether it be days, weeks, or months.

…

“Claire…” I was pulled back into reality by Michael kneeling in front of me on the floor. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked, looking at him. “What was the dream about?” he asked. I bit my lip, something inside my head was screaming at me to not tell him. I should tell him, but part of my continued to try and convince me not to.

“Uh…well, there was a plane, but that’s about it…” that wasn’t exactly a lie…was it?

When he looked at me, I could tell he didn’t fully believe me, but he didn’t push the matter any further. He stood up, and walked away from me, leaving me with my thoughts.

What did that dream have to do with anything? Why did I get on a plane going who knows where? But the thought that stuck out the most, when was I going to be faced with the decision of getting on that plane?

These thoughts circulated through my head, with many others, and soon, sleep claimed me once again.

(A/N): So, this is my first story. Sorry if it sucked, bear with me on it please. Thoughts, ideas, criticism?

Thanks for reading!