Stranger

It started a week ago. These dreams. I don't know what they mean, I don't know if they mean anything. All I know is that they're there, and they won't go away. I won't tell anyone. Not yet. If I tell someone, then the dreams won't be mine anymore. And I like them. I want them to stay mine.

In my dreams, there's always a boy. He seems slightly older than me, 19 maybe. It's the same boy every night and he's quite handsome. He has dirty blonde hair that falls in his eyes if he doesn't brush it away, and he has beautiful eyes. They're gold, and they're deep. Wise. I think that's what I like best about him, his eyes. He's really nice, but he gets frustrated when I don't listen to him. He tells me I need to follow him, in every dream. I never do. He wants me to follow him into a tunnel, an underground tunnel, and I'm scared, I'm always scared. He tries to pull me, and I try to run away. He's quicker on his legs, and he catches up to me every time, and pulls me to the tunnel. He says he has to do this. To keep me safe, he has to do it. The thing that confuses me the most is that at the end of every dream, he looks at me and tears are falling from his eyes, his golden eyes. Little did I know that those eyes would be my strongest desire and my greatest weakness.

Every morning, I've woken up shaken and stunned and in a cold sweat. I guess if I'm waking up in a panic I should not call them dreams, I should call them nightmares. But these dreams, they feel like a part of me now. Even after I wake up, I feel the dream is real, that it happened. It was not just a dream, but a memory, and it will happen again. I look forward to the dreams, I enjoy the excitement. How long will this dream last? The dream is the same every night, but I get a new rush of reality each time. But the dream I have tonight is different.

I'm standing in tall grass that comes up to about my knees. I feel the rough ground alive under my feet and hear the community of insects inhabiting the wilderness. In front of me is a looming forest with the same underground tunnel in the middle. The blonde boy is next to me and he's facing the tunnel. He looks sad, so I ask him why he is sad. Maybe sad is too general. He looks confused. Quizzical. He says, "It's too late, Allison. It's too late." I like his voice, almost more than I like his eyes. I am inclined to ask him how he knows my name, but I don't. I ask him what it is that's too late. He doesn't have time to reply because I'm cut off by an ear splitting scream. My first reaction is anger, or betrayal. I don't know why I should feel either of these emotions, this boy is a stranger. You cant feel betrayed by someone you never trusted, can you? Yesterday, he was dragging me into that hellhole, and now it sounds like someone is being tortured in there. I make a mental note not to trust the blonde haired boy. He shouts for me to run, but I don't, because my second reaction almost causes me to black out. It sounds like my little brother. It sounds like Max. I start for the tunnel, but the boy won't let me. But this time, I am quicker. I reach the entrance of the tunnel- And then I wake up.

Immediately after I wake up, I wipe the sticky sweat off my forehead and I timidly get up to check Max's room to make sure he's in there. The doubt and panic that takes over my body is excrutiating  and my head is spinning. His door creaks as I push it open with my index finger and peer inside. Max is in there, and he is asleep. And I am humiliated. I want to crawl up next to him, under his blue sheets covered in footballs, but I know I would wake him up. I tiptoe back to my room and lay back down. 2:00 am. The panic from my dream was fading away and calmness was washing in.

Falling asleep isn't easy, not when you're thinking. Thinking gets you nowhere. Thinking traps you in an eternity of dissatisfied thoughts and haunting emotions. When I stop thinking, I eventually fall asleep. And go figure, I'm at the same field. It feels like a slap to the face to be thrown into a situation, literally dropped onto this endless feild of grass. 

I am extremely angry at this boy now, shouldn't he be happy? What is so special about this tunnel? My six year old brother is in there calling for me. Let me go. I turn around and look at the golden boy with out a name, and I stare at him. He stares back and I can see the internal struggle he is having, and seeing that triggers something in me. Trust. I thought I decided not to trust him. I can't help it. Why am I fighting with myself?  I ask him, "Why?" That's all I say, but it is enough. He surprises me and frightens me with his response. "This isn't a dream, come with me." Without glancing back, he strolled off into the opposite direction of the forest. I don't know if it's that voice or those eyes that convinced me to go or if its the confusion I had or about how he knew I was dreaming, but I went with him. And that's how it all began.