The first time I had a nightmare I was five years old. I dreamed of darkness and monsters. It had started as one of the few days when we went out for a family walk, but my brother wasn't with us, but that didn't matter to me. Going out implied that our family will behave in a perfect image of what they should be.
We were on our way to the amusement park when the night fell and Dad's car went into the black. Hands pull me out from the back seat and I was left alone in the middle of the dark, looking for my parents, trying to find something to hold on to, but I found nothing. I heard steps behind me and I turned, hoping to find my family, but the only thing that I distinguished it was the silhouette of something evil.
Fear washed over me and I ran away, however, I wasn't fast enough and something grabbed me, causing me to start screaming.
And I woke up.
Screaming and trembling from the terror I had experienced, my mother was annoyed because I woke her up, but then she saw how I was, and she sat next to me stroking my hair to reassure me. She told me that it was just a bad dream, and it was up to me to leave it behind. I had to be brave and dare to close my eyes. That was the only way to not give to the nightmare the power to control me.
I pretended to go back to sleep so Mom could go back to her room, but I couldn't let my subconscious sink into another dream. When I squeezed my eyes, the feeling of loneliness and loss came back to haunt me, over and over again, the nightmare returned until at some point, exhaustion overcame me.
I never felt so scared like I was that night.
Until an accident happened, and I almost died.
But I followed Mom's advice and got ahead.
And then the fire came.
All that fear, the pain, and the loss burst in my chest and continues to drown me. Sometimes, in those few minutes between waking up and being aware that a new day has begun, I manage to avoid it... until the memories rush one after another and I feel again in that nightmare.
And I can't wake up.
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