It all started when I turned 11. That was when my dreams became too realistic. A woman made out of the world itself... Telling me something about how I could help her. She kept pushing me on whether or not I was going to help her.
It used to happen once a month.
Then it became once a week.
And finally, now it happened every night.
But it was just a dream, right? I had nothing to be afraid of... right?
But that was where I was wrong.
So terribly wrong.
I realized that when I had a dream of a boy, who walked through the shadows, with a girl, and a goat-man with a baseball bat. He was guiding the two people, and a huge statue.
He guided them out of the shadows and into the alleyway I call home.
I shrugged it off, until two days later.
Because two days later it happened.
The boy, the girl, the goat-man, and the statue appeared out of a blob of darkness.
Something I couldn't begin to fathom was going on. Something....
Something that all started with a dream.
But all my dreams?
They ended with death.
After all, my name wasn't Burden for nothing.
