Beyond Your Dreams

Chapter 1ne

I startled up out of my squeaky bed, breathing heavy and looking around my bedroom, distraught. I had just had, yet another of my numerously terrifying, nightmares. I caught my breath and tapped the screen on my phone to see the time.

"2:30...." I groaned quietly and plopped my head back down on my pillow.

I closed my eyes and winced as i remembered aspects of the frightening horror show that played in my mind. I've had bad dreams almost every night since my mom died. Some, like this one, were worse than others. Some, like this one, felt unfathomably real.

"You killed her. It was you. It was your fault. You're next little Sawyer. You're next..."

The terrifying voice echoed in my ears again, just like it did in my dream. Tears quietly fell from my eyes. I refused to blink and see the terrible images that lurked behind my eyelids, even if it was just for less than half a second.

I grabbed my phone off of my nightstand and opened my messages. I clicked on Damien's name and started to message him:

It happened again Damien...I-

I stopped, and stared at the words on the bright screen. With my thumb, I quickly deleted them and exited my messages. I would text Damien almost every night when I would have these night terrors. He was so good at calming me down.

But there's an exam at school tomorrow. I thought. I shouldn't wake him...

So I made the decision to get up and try to distract myself. I sat on the edge of my bed for a moment and tried not to pay attention to the fact that my room was pitch black and there could be someone standing in front of me right at that very moment. My heart began to beat faster as my anxiety rapidly started to increase. When it finally got to the point where I was in the corner of her bedroom with my knees pulled tightly to my chest, I gave in and called Damien.

I listened to the default ringing noise as it tried to connect the call. "Come on Damien...pick up." I sobbed quietly into the phone. My breathing sounded as if it was coming from a woman in labor. There was a click sound and I heard his voice.

"Sawyer, you okay?" Damien's soft, gravelly voice asked over the phone.

I was silent for a moment before I answered him.

"It was my fault..." I said in a small, sad voice.

Damien sighed through the phone. I hated making him feel obligated to comfort me, but he was the only person who could. I sniffled and took a long, shaky breath. Damien was not one to beat around the bush. He spoke what he meant; I liked that about him.

"Sawyer, it wasn't your fault. You were six when your mom died. She got cancer. You had no control over it. You have to let this go. It's been over ten years. You can't let this rule over your life anymore. You have to let it go." Damien spoke calmly, and slowly, making his words meaningfully clear.

I slowly rocked back and forth with the phone held to my face, tears seeping down my cheek and dampening the phone screen.

"I can't...it won't let me." I stated hoarsely, like a choke victim.

Damien knew what I meant. His mom died too; when he was eight. He was in bed asleep when he heard his mother's screams. He cried out to her. To his father. He was so scared. He climbed out of his bed and ran to his mother's room. He found her lying on the end of the bed; blood everywhere. Her pajamas caked in it. The carpet stained with his mother's DNA. His dad was nowhere to be found. He was still at work. That day will forever haunt Damien.

"Damien?" I called through the phone. "You still there?"

He snapped out of his memories and spoke into the phone.

"Yeah, sorry. Just was thinking about something." He never talked about his mom or how she died with anyone. Not even his father. They don't really talk at all. They're both too emotionally scarred to communicate with each other.

"Oh," I said plainly. I know not to ask Damien too many questions. He doesn't like talking. Especially about his past. "I'm sorry."

"What? Oh, it's fine Sawyer. You know I'm always here to talk to when you need me; always."

"Yeah, Damien, I know..." I sighed and took another deep breath.

"I think you should go see someone." Damien started, carefully, knowing that this can be a sensitive subject. "You know, like, a therapist. Or some kind of grieving counselor. I think that's your best chance at moving forward from these nightmares."

"What could a shrink possibly do to help me, other than put me in a mental ward?" I said with a laugh. My dad tried doing one of those things. He went to group grief counseling. He would always come back more depressed than when he left for the dumb meeting.

"Sawyer, I really think they can help. I'll go with you. We can do it together. After exams, we have a week long break. We can go then." Damien pushed.

I let out an exasperated breath before speaking. "Fine. But if I'm going to do this, I'm not going to some local kook. If I'm going to do this, I want the best 'dream doctor' in the United States. Okay?"

"Deal. I'll drive you there in one of the cars from my dad's shop. It'll be like a road trip!" Damien enthused. He was trying to get me excited about getting help, finally, but he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

I scoffed at his silly statement, but I thought to myself, just me and Damien, traveling across the West Coast together? Doesn't sound too horrible.

"Try and go back to sleep okay, Saw?" Damien loved calling me that. And I loved when he called me that just as much.

I smiled against the phone, got up and walked back to my bed. "You too Dame." He laughed and hung up the phone.

I laid down, back in my loud, obnoxious excuse for a mattress and stared blankly at the ceiling. I thought about what could happen between me and Damien. I thought if anything could happen between us; good or bad. Will the road trip bring us closer together than we already are? Or will it expose me for who I really am? A scared little girl, trapped in this cruel, daunting world.

I closed my eyes and pictured myself at my five year old age of innocence, where I danced with my mother in a pretty dress. Instead of feeling like a memory, it felt like I was watching someone else's life on T.V.

Little Sawyer twirled around the living room floor, holding her mom's delicate hands. Her dad sat in the corner of the room, playing the piano and smiling at us.

"Okay, sweetheart, time for bed. You wouldn't wanna keep all your bears waiting!" Her momma said, her voice so angelic and loving.

"Okay mommy. But...can you tuck me in this time, instead of daddy? I want you to sing to me." Little Sawyer pulled on her mother and guided her down the hall, into her bedroom. She crawled into her bed and snuggled next to her giant polar bear and closed her eyes. Her mom placed her hand on her head and stroked her hair while she sang a sweet lullaby...

"Goodnight, my baby. Momma loves you..."