Days on Island: 2 Late (Too dark to read my 'dead body' watch)

The jungle is quiet in the darkness. I can barely see the page in front of me, the only light coming from the dying embers of the abandoned fire. I watch the other sleep, marveling at how we are all so different. It's funny how fate forces the most unexpected people together. If it weren't for this plane crash I would never have even spoken to any one of these people, let alone trek through the jungle with them.

It's strange. I already feel a sort of kinship with them. We're all each other has for who knows how long. A makeshift family, forced together whether we like it or not. And so far it's mostly 'not.'

Earlier Sayid gave us a demonstration of how and where we crashed. He used a flaming stick as the plane. I was the only person that found that a little amusing. When he was done Sawyer said, "Nice puppet show." I gave a faint snort of laughter. "Puppet show of doom," I muttered and he chuckled. I glanced up at him and he stopped laughing, looking away, annoyed. I glanced around equally irritated for some reason I couldn't explain, but no one was paying attention until Sawyer asked about the French lady's transmission.

Charlie brought up the fact that the others were going to freak when they heard that there was no rescue in sight. After little debate, we all agreed that this should be kept under wraps for now. As much as I would hate to be lied to about this if the situation were reversed, I've read Lord of the Flies. Sayid's right, hope is a dangerous thing to lose.

The wind is picking up again and the fire makes its last attempts at life as small flames flicker from the embers. I'm shivering and there are goose bumps along my arm though it's far from cold, even at night. I find myself clutching my mother's necklace again; it's cool now, though just minutes ago it was painfully hot against my chest. I don't know if it was that or my dream that startled me awake.

My dream…

It's funny. I haven't had nightmares like that since right after Mom died. Even after all this time they have a way of shaking me to the core. Normal kids dream about boogeymen and monsters, my nightmares were never that concrete. I don't know if you'd even call them nightmares. It's not like I ever felt in danger, but there was something about them…something that made them more than dreams that frightened me.

I'd made the mistake of mentioning them to Lila. She had me in therapy and drugged up quicker than you could say Prozac. Not that I completely blamed her…having a seven year old tell you that people whispered to her in her dreams was probably a little…crazy.

Hell, I feel like I'm going half crazy now. I must be in some state of shock over the many traumas I've been through.

I wish Mom was here. She'd know what to do. She was always the calm, rational one who always seemed to know more than she was letting on. She had that way of making you feel like you were safe with her. People didn't come from miles around to have her read their cards, palms, whatever. They came for reassurance. Waiting in our driveway as Mom returned home from the diner, weary and exhausted, but always kind and willing to help.

I remember Mom would never let me sit in on the sessions, but I'd always find some way to eavesdrop…listening to their broken voices, seeing the desperation in their eyes. The worst was when they were in love. Love always has a way of making the most mild mannered people do the most insane things.

Gee, with childhood memories like these it's a wonder my fiancée, Max, said I was emotionally frigid and incapable of any kind of real love so that's why he was screwing the Starbucks girl.

Some psychic you are, Mom. What happened to my 'great' future? That time I asked you what the cards said about me? You just laughed and got that faraway look in your eyes. "Gwennie, I don't need to read a bunch of cards to know what's in store for you. Your life will be filled with love and adventure. All you need to remember is nothing is what it seems, to expect the unexpected, and love with your whole heart."

Well, Mom, I think I've had enough adventure for three lifetimes, so you got one thing right.

God, I'm yelling at my dead mother. Maybe I am crazy.