A Confusing Dream

It all began, with a confusing dream. Yes, a dream- a dream like no other. It wasn't exactly the weirdest or freakiest one- I've had worse. But it was the most confusing one I've had in a long, long time. I mean, to tell you the truth, I've had this dream before, over and over again. And, boy, did it freak me out. The last time I had this dream over and over, people said it was just a phase I was going through. There's just one strange thing about this, though. Then, I was seven. Now, I'm fourteen.

Yah, long time interval. Even though I was seven, I still remember the dream clearly. Dark, it was dark all around me. But somehow, I knew I was in a corridor and for some reason, I had to keep moving. There, I heard them. Footsteps; no mot mine- someone else's. They were... running. No, not away from... but... towards me. I, too, started to run, not towards the person but away. Then I heard it. My name, coming from somewhere behind me, spoken by an unfamiliar voice. "Violet!"

But you see, that's the dream, when I was seven. Now it's different. Dark, it is still dark, even after seven years. I still had to keep moving, not because I somehow knew like when I was seven. Someone was holding my hand, tugging me along the dark corridor. I looked up trying to see who this stranger was, this stranger that was helping me run away from something even more dangerous. Even in the dark, I still could see my savior's face; he had a relief and, at the same time, a frightened look on his face. He had short, layered, light brown and chestnut hair, with bits of gold in it, here and there. His faced looked like it could have been carved from stone, even though he had a light tan. But the most startling thing about were his eyes... His eyes... They were... violet. Just... like... my name. A noise behind us made me jump and release my gaze on his face. There they were again. Oh god, I thought. Those running footsteps, from behind us, were back to haunt me... again.

I guess my savior heard them to because he also started running, not toward the footsteps running towards us, but away. Just like I did when I was seven. He still had my hand and I his. His was warm and soft and something else I couldn't understand. But then, still holding his hand, I ran with him. It was either that or be dragged. Just then, I heard. My heart was beating so fast and adrenaline that pumped and rushed through my veins that I thought maybe my savior could hear them, my heart and blood. Then I heard it again, someone still whispering it. Then, and only then, I realized it hadn't come from behind me- it came from the stranger next to me. This stranger that was holding my hand and I his. This stranger that was saving me from whatever was behind us, chasing us down this godforsaken path or corridor. This stranger I didn't know but somehow... he... knew me. "Violet," he whispered as we ran, that being the last thing I heard before my world went black.

1

When I woke, I thought I was back in the dark corridor, running for my life. But then, my eyes cleared and I was able to see that I was back in my bedroom. Sighing, I turned on my side, playing the dream back in my head, questions starting to come and go. I didn't think about it then (I mean, who would even think when you're running from something or someone), but when I looked up into my savior's eyes, I felt, and knew, that someday... I would get a chance to meet him. When he was holding my hand and I his, I felt that he knew me, knew everything about me, that he could see farther into my heart than any other boy could. That was the way I felt about him too. He knew my name but, unlike the hands (like the "and I his" thing) I... didn't know his. How sad is that, to feel like I know everything about him and not even know his name. But still, that's like the basic of the basic. I mean, if someone knows your name they should introduce themselves, right? ... Right?

Well, I guess not, since he didn't, but hey, we were running from danger, so who would have made proper introductions. Sighing, I got out of bed and walked over to my closet to pick an outfit for today. I looked at my clothes but didn't really see them since my mind was elsewhere, trying to answer questions about my confusing dream. Questions like, Who was that guy? Who were we running from? But the most important question was, Why do I feel like I know him so well?

2

After finally getting dressed and making sure my bag was packed for school, I slid down the stairs (on the railing, of course) and skipped into the kitchen. My dad was already there (of course) and, like he did every morning, reading the newspaper. My mom was probably elsewhere in the house, getting ready for her big day in the office. Just to let you know, my mom's a lawyer and my dad's a scientist. I don't know why but as soon as I skipped through the kitchen, Dad gave me a funny look, like I had something on my face. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. You just seem in a really good mood for a Tuesday morning, that's all," he said, watching me closely, acting like I might faint if he looked away.

I stopped skipping, and thought (or said) without even knowing, "It's Tuesday?" I was confuzled.

He stopped whatever he was doing, looked at me like he always did, then burst out laughing. "I... I thought... heh heh.. something was... ha... wrong... with you.. heh.. for a second," he said, choking on laughter. Smiling, I walked to the cabinet and got my cereal. About to pour it into a bowl, I looked up at the clock. "OMG!! I'm going to be late."