Last night a had a dream. It wasn't like other dreams I've had, this dream was different, it was almost real, I can still see her, it was almost as if it was trying to tell me something.......
It all started at school. I was talking to Eli, losing myself into his glistening wide eyes which were bore the colours of a fairytale forest , then all of a sudden I stared falling. Falling into a forest. The forest of Eli's eyes. I started skipping through the forest, like it was just another ordinary day. The wind whispered to the trees. "Miracle.... Miracle...." It said. It got louder as I went on. The autumn leaves fell from the trees, "miracle, miracle" they whispered as they floated gracefully down to the ground and crushed beneath my feet. The whispering suddenly tickled my ear. Someone was whispering to me. I gazed up and what my eyes came upon was something extraordinary, something magical. A spirit. The ghostly figure was very human like, but very beautiful. It didn't talk for a long time. We just sat there curiously gazing into each others eyes. Hers like oceans, blue and captivating, almost supernatural. I imagine mine were not nearly as interesting to look at! I suppose she was just as shocked as I. Finally she spoke "You cannot not change the past, but the future is in your hands." Her voice was like a song,a beautiful, mystical song. I shuddered at the thought of it. It was then the dream ended. It haunted me all day, the forest, the spirit, her words. I just needed to figure out what it all meant.
Later that day, I told grandma. She nodded continuously during the part about Eli and the forest. She chuckled at the part of the spirit but when I told her what the spirit said, her eyes widened and she looked taken aback, she mumbled something about what her mum used to say. I looked at her questingly. "Grandma, what's wrong?" I asked. That felt like déjà vu. When I asked grandma what was wrong on that tragic afternoon. Thinking about what happened last time I asked her that, sparked worry and fear inside me. She choked, "we need to talk" she spoke. I sensed the pain in her voice.
She sat me down. "When I was young , I wasn't like you, I was different," " they didn't like who I was, I wasn't even counted as a human!". "I didn't know what she meant. I had the pieces of the puzzles but I didn't know how to put them together. I knew grandma was Jewish, she was born in 1933, she grew up in Germany, she... Oh. "Grandma..." I said, I was shocked. I knew. "Yes," she chocked back tears "I was taken, I saw things kids should never see, they killed my best friend, they killed my mum... they killed my mum!". I hugged her tightly before she had time to choke back any more of tears. I gave her a look of true sympathy . She let me know it was okay to cry sometimes, for even things that happened years and years ago can still hurt you as much as the day it happened.
This just proves you don't know anyone's story. Before you judge them, always consider their story, what they've been through. In grandmas case, she been through hell. And still every day, she carries on pushing her history to the back of her head but carrying the weight of extreme grief and fearfulness on her shoulders. That is amazing as I know that most wouldnt be able to cope.
