Wrecked

When I was only eight, I had a reoccuring nightmare about life as we know it. This dream would follow the same simple sequence. First, I would be watching my young self sleep peacefully in her bed. She kept a stuffed toy clutched to her chest, and I could hear the barely audible soft sounds of her- or my, rather,- breathing. This would continue for awhile, just watching myself rest, without a care in the world. Then, the noises began. I could hear whispering, shouting, and screeching. My sleeping, dream self remained in bed, as if she could not hear these noises that haunted my actual sleeping body. After the noises, the deterioration of her surroundings occured. The furniture in her bedroom toppled, shattering into pieces on the rug. The walls toppled down, leaving only large chunks. But, my sleepy dream self was totally unaware of everything happening around her. I would try to wake her -oh, how I tried to wake her!- but she was too far gone. I would wake, only, when there was nothing. All that was left was the bed, and my sleeping form. As I grew up, I never understood what this dream meant, and why I kept having it night after night. I told my friends about it and they laughed in my face! How could one have a dream as foolish as this? This is what I thought. I thought my dream was silly, just my brain merely playing tricks on me. I never thought of this dream meaning something, until it came true.