This time I am seeing myself walking through the long wisps of wheat that come up to my shoulders. The wheat field is always the same; a vast field that looks like it will never end although sometimes there might be a tree or maybe purple lilacs that have spread amongst the field. I can't remember where I could have come from or where I was planning to go. The look on my younger selfs face is one of panic, anguish and something else I can't seem to pin. She catches my attention by stopping, looking around and landing her cool gaze on me. She's staring straight at me, she – I look 6 but know I must have been 4. I flinch at how oddly beautiful I looked back then with waist length ivory hair, porcelain skin and dark blue/grey eyes with flecks of brown and gold. All of these things should look harrowing but instead seem to complement each other in a peculiar and abnormal way.
Younger me is wearing a long white dress that seems to just flow around her – me. The only explanation would be that there was a breeze coming in, yet I can't feel anything but calming warmth.
I look down at myself to see I'm in an almost identical dress though this one is strapless, from the waist up is an intricate design of lace with what seems like liquid gold flowing the lace and reflecting the suns rays, the skirt flows to my ankles and just like my past selves seems to float around me.
I try to walk or even just to move but know it's effortless; my legs are stuck. I don't know what I expected. I've never been able to move in my 'dreams.'
She makes a move towards my present self. I never could completely understand how she could be in one place one moment and another the next. She stands directly in front of me so close that I can see the brown flecks in her eyes and look down to see a letter in her hand, it's within my grasp and as I am about to reach out for it I'm overwhelmed with a mix of emotions from dread to hope.
Instead she just stands there pointing at my chest and when I look down I'm shocked to find blood starting to seep through the dress. A sharp pang of pain erupts from my chest and starts to spread until I can't breathe and the calm warmth that I had felt just moments ago is replaced with a bitter and excruciating cold that envelops me, fogs my vision and clouds my thoughts. I know it's not real and it's just a dream but it feels real and I'm too far-gone and my thoughts too invested.
I'm choking on the cold. Suddenly the floor seems to make contact with me and creates a force that knocks out whatever air I may have had left in my lungs.
After what seems likes hours of lying there something wet and sticky makes contact with my hand and only now does it dawn on me that I'm going to die.
I lift my head up from the floor glance at my younger self to see the letter float from her small fingers onto the now dark and wet dirt. Watching the moment, its like its in slow motion. Maybe that's what its like when your dying: everything in slow motion.
I reach out and try to take hold of the letter but only get to brush the corner of before all I see is darkness surrounding me.
