Dying Dreamer (in one mahusive phase of rewriting)

5. The Many Trials Of The Morning

5. The Many Trials of the Morning

Once the sun crept through the glass of my window and past the white drapes slunk over it, I pulled myself off of my bed; to understand the exact state I was in but once I was stood in front of my mirror and the light of day circled around me I was astonished to see that my white t-shirt was still white and the cartoon Smurf on it was still its blue self, the same for my grey sweatpants; no red crimson blood in sight. I immediately looked to where bloody hand and foot prints should be but there was only my wood panelled flooring . So this meant 3 things,

1. I was seeing things.

2. This means I'm definitely going crazy.

3. Seeing things linked with your dreams is definitely a sign of going crazy.

But I didn't have time to think about this, I had a million and one things to do before school then of course I had school. My time to think about my dreams was just before I had them and that was not now. Although however brave I was trying to be, I was still very aware that the dreams I've had before until now never carried onto my safe reality. To be honest that fact scared me more than what i'd witnessed because it meant things were only going to get worse.

I slipped off my sweat pants and top, silently I hopped over to my wardrobe, where I pulled on a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a baggy grey t-shirt. fixing my hair up into a high pony tail, I then tip toed out of my room, along the cold wooden flooring, down stairs. My Mum had probably only just got back to sleep so I didn't want to wake her up by charging down the stairs like an eight year old.

Once safely down stairs, I poured some juice into a glass and put some toast in the toaster, whilst that was cooking I busied myself with making some P.B. 'n' J sandwiches for lunch as well as getting my school bag ready.

Today was Thursday, Thursday in my books was the equivalent to Mondays; my school day was not only the start of it. First I had to endure exceedingly early but ridiculously paid; dog walking for my next door neighbour's evidently conspicuous Saint Bernard. Then there is school, the thing it self is enough but today I have a home economics test which goes towards 75% of my grade; which is going to be crap anyway as the only thing I can cook without poisoning somebody, is P.B. 'n' J sandwiches and pot noodle. Oh and guess what meal I opted for, beef lasagne; do you know how hard it is to make that! The microwavable ones just look so easy and effortless but oh no, some variations of the recipe have wine in them others have garlic...

I was pulled out of my lasagne thought bubble only to be brought back to the smell of burning toast.

"I can't even toast bread who can't toast bread" I exclaimed in annoyance.

"Well Gracie, if it makes you feel better, I can't quite get my jambalaya recipe right" I turned my head towards Miss Lalorette ,my next door neighbour, and her large companion Benny (the dog I was talking about) stood in my doorway. Originally born in Jamaica moved to New Orleans when she was 9 months old she lived up onto the moment her business broke down 5 years ago then she moved to a town in the middle of nowhere, where it is quite; although she used to be a stand out, well known, psychic ,she prefers the calm hustle and bustle of our town and her weekly palm reading sessions are going down quite well considering. And as Miss Lalorette kindly added was my name; on my birth certificate its Grace but everyone calls me Gracie.     

She glided over to where I was stood and placed her hand gently on my shoulder all most as if to tell me some grave news but the gaze she used to stare into my eyes it wasn't bad news she was going to give me it was confirmed suspicions.

"Oh my sweet child, I wish I could stop those dreams I really do but something much more powerful than us is feeding you the poison and what they have planned is going to be much much worse." she said still her soulful eyes gazing into my eyes.