I never dream.
I never had one, and thought I never would.
I sleep in the darkness of my eyelids in complete serene peace, without a single image appearing in my mind. It has always been this way for me since I can remember, and nothing was particularly weird about it, or so say my parents. My sister has dreams though, lots of them, and doesn't hesitate to share them. However this dream wasn't a dream itself but a bad one, a nightmare.
The nightmare was clear and simple, nothing complex, nor exaggerated; I dreamt that inside the deepest and darkest part of the forest a silhouette stood in the fog. It stood there for god knows how long, giving me a ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I didn't even have to notice the knife to feel my heart thumping painfully.
Nothing else happened after that, but the idea of me, a twelve year old girl who listens to her parents and is well behaved, should not be so easily overlooked. What would most people do in a situation where they feel insecure about something? Why tell someone, usually their parents, teachers, shrinks, or someone trust worthy.
I don't want to tell my parents that I have murder in my mind, not to mention teachers and shrinks who always end up telling the parents. I know because a lot of kids put their trust in people, I've made that mistake before; I had gotten a D on my report card and my parents weren't mad, disappointed yes, but not mad.
Still, that did nothing for my faith in telling others my secrets, luckily I usually never have anything to hide from my parents. Now I do.
My family are cheerful people that live in a miserable city; Seattle Washington, a city where it always rains. Don't get me wrong, Seattle is definitely a beautiful place, especially when looking from the height of the Space Needle, one of the landmarks which tourist love to visit.
My dad lived here when he was little and through great effort he managed to become very successful and well-respected by others. It would be horrible if I ruined his career with the belief that his eldest daughter first dream involved a killer. I can only feel right to assume that the best way to handle this is by forgetting it, though easier said then done.
So as I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling with uncertainty of what to do next, a fatherly voice calls out to me from outside my pink bedroom.
"Wake up sweetie, it is time to get ready for church," I didn't budge for a moment,listening to the light drizzle of rain, deciding on whether I should ask if we can skip church today.
Though the last time I asked he said we had to, because it is our obligation. Besides, we weren't like the lady next door, who is always preaching every day, claiming we will all go to hell. Even when I got up and got ready with my family for church she was still at the same corner of her home, with the bible in her hand...under an open umbrella.
She hates me the most for reasons I can not explain, I can just see it in her usual glares that she gives others vs the glares she gives me. My family doesn't notice, or at least my father and little sister don't, mom on the other hand pretends not to notice the crazy woman.
"Bless the Lord who forgives all our sins," the priest says.
"His mercy endures for ever," I and many others in church reply in unison. I stare at the floor the majority of the time when I go to church, it is less obvious that I am not paying much attention. If I look at the ceiling people will think I am having an epiphany.
"Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known,
and from you no secrets are hid. Cleanse the thoughts of our
hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may
perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name;
through Christ our Lord. Amen."
"Amen," I automatically reply. I listen to the chorus sing, and it sounds like angels came to church too. Still, I awoke when church was over, and I watch my father lift up my sister Hanabi, who is 5 years old, while my mother struggled a bit with opening two umbrellas.
The next thing I knew my mother ruffled my black short straight hair with a bright smile on her face. It is always fun to play with my hair, it's thin and it tickles my shoulders.
My hair is always easy to maintain without any effort. The only thing I do not like is my eyes; I prefer anything over grey, grey is a sad color to me.
"Do you want to get some ice cream," my mother asked my little sister.
"We should eat regular food first. Otherwise they will not grow well," father said sternly.
"I think they will be fine this one time, besides tomorrow is the first day for Hinata as a seventh grader, isn't that right Hinata?"
She had asked my little sister Hanabi if she wanted ice cream but preyed on my new year as a legitimate reason to go. She always loved to wear and buy nice things; I doubt she would like to live in a smaller house. She always has to be the nicest looking one when leaving the house, or when she is around other people. Lots of makeup to hide herself from society.
"That is still no reason that we should skip lunch and go straight to desert."
"Please, daddy," Hanabi quivered her lips and clasped her hands together. She was always so cute when she did that, but at the same time it was a bit irritating for some reason.
After a few moments of friendly bantering, my father finally agreed. After another few minutes of waiting, we sat at the cleanest table we could find, or at least one with the least ice cream smeared on the seats. We sat quietly under the large red table umbrella, eating our treats with the rain still drizzling lightly.
I watched them all eat so distinctively; mom would carefully bit small pieces with the end of her lips, dad would smooth out the design of the ice cream, and my sister does a bit of both. As for me, I didn't take a bite out my delicious chocolate ice cream, nor did I start even when it began melting down the cone. They didn't notice, too busy focusing on their deserts. I did not feel so hungry at the moment, truthfully I felt a bit tired again.
My eyelids gaining weight with each moment.
Silence was between us all until I actually realized that they were talking, muttering something incomprehensible that I could only assume I was too tired to hear. My mind was drifting off into space, numbing myself to a buzzing feeling.
I, without thought, watched them, their eyes pour out tears of overflowing blood; running down their face and body before reaching to my feet on the floor. Their teeth fell from their jaws, and the skin peeled from their face with slow ease, but they just kept talking; muttering more unheard words to the point where I could not bare to stare at them any longer. My heart racing, caused enough fright in me that I let out a piercing scream.
"Honey what wrong?" my father's voice called wordily, as I peeked out from my thin fingers. Normal, except their faces of concern.
"Are you ok," my mother leans in placing a shoulder on my shivering body. My sister looked as lost as I was.