Thursday, September 12, 2013

Nightmares

To close my eyes is often a fear of mine. I have had so many awful nightmares in my life that I have had to learn to relax and go to sleep. For the longest time I would have a reoccurring dream that was terrifying. I am usually someone who doesn't get scared much, I can watch scary movies but this dream seems so real. The dream has gone on for years, but I never know when it will happen. It starts off with me laying in my bed like what I was before I feel asleep. I get weaken up by a loud sound of a window breaking. I jump up and run into my moms room but the moment I get to the hallway it is to late. I see the intruder in one eye and my mom in the other. I look at the intruder with his gun pointing at me. He says "If you take one more step I will shoot." I look at him and say, "What do you want?" He replies with a soft tone, "YOU!" I looked at my mom and she is about to jump in front of me. I look at him and say, " What do you want to do with me?" He said, " You are very pretty and I want to use you like I did the last 3, don't worry it will only be for a few hours then everything will be over." I asked "What do you mean over?" He said "Oh just the drugs they will wear off you wont remember anything and we will make sure you wont remember far any after that either." I look at him and say, "I'd rather die." he said, "Well would you like your mom to die?" I cower down and said,"No I will do anything so my mom wont get hurt." He smiles takes my hand and before I know my mom jumps on his back and I hear a gun fire. I look around and see my mom on the ground. I grabbed a picture frame off the wall and smash the corner into his head. He passes out I take him and drag him into the front yard as I call 911. I go back inside and look at my mom and try to wake her, she wont. That's when I wake up.  This is the worst dream I have, and every time wake up crying. I don't know what I would do if that actually happened in real life and am relived that it is a dream every time I wake up.

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