I have been having weird dreams. Last night, I had a dream that segregation was ending, but there was a big war. I was older and had children. There was a place, I do not know where, that all mothers and their children had to go. I sent my children to go up the stairs that were next to a building, and I saw a pretty African American. I went to go and talk with her, seeing that she had children next to her. As I approached, she sent her children running up the stairs. I thought it might be nice to talk to someone in the same boat as me, so I said hello. She then proceeded to tell me that I may not want to get to know her for she was a coward. I asked her how that was and she said that in the bathroom a man is robbing a woman, but she was to afraid to go in. I told her that I would be too. She smiled at me as asked me to take care of her children for her. I asked her why but she just made me promise, and so I did. She said that she was going to blow her whistle and alert soldiers about what was happening, but she wanted me gone first. I left, although I was worried for the woman. One of her sons had come down the stairs, wondering if he could play with my children, so I took him by the hand and lead him up the stairs and said that he could. I moved all the kids away from the window, hearing the blow of the whistle. I looked out and saw a soldier running up. He did not help the woman in the bathroom being mugged, in fact, he pulled the now dead woman out and threw her into the dirt. She was African American, also. The man doing the mugging than proceeded to attack the other lady, whose children I had. He slit her throat in slow increments, making the pain unbearable. I tried to help the woman but the doors were locked. The two men sat on either side of the lady and lapped up the blood running down her neck and latched on her arteries. Could see the twitching her body was making as the last of her blood left her body. I gasped, but that made the men look at me. I saw their faces as clear as day, and gasped again. They were handsome, even with blood running down their faces.
With a snap I awoke to my alarm clock proudly announcing that it was seven thirty. It was the last week of school and I had been having these dreams for about a month and they were starting to scare me. They were always a continuous flow, like a movie, every time I sleep but never that same, like a jumble of different film clips, never quite meshing.
"I have decided to go to a therapist." I told my mother and father over the phone. They argued with me but I won because there was nothing they could have done. They were in South America, anyway. I went online and found a therapist near my home and called to make an appointment.
I expected to have to wait weeks and have the dreams continue on, but the receptionist said that I could come today and be seen by Dr. Jaxton. I told her that I would be there in about an hour and hung up, looking forward to my day. I got out of bed and went to my closet to choose my clothes for the day. I ended up with an All Time Low band shirt, white skinny jeans and my black and white checkered converse. I set my clothing down on the counter of my bathroom and adjusted the faucets to a temperature slightly higher than my body temperature before stepping into the spray. By the time I was done, it was eight o'clock and I was rushing to straighten my hair. I ended up leaving the house at eight ten with hair as straight as a rod and began the almost ten minute drive to the doctor's office.
