It had been several weeks since the funeral and things had gone back to normal. Or atleast it appeared so to Jeff. But Mark continued to have dreams, awful dreams at night. He had been keeping it a secret. Pretending to be okay, and at times, he was. The day brought his usual routine, which did allow him to settle down, forget about those memories, the memories that were brought to him when he slept. But then the night would come again, he'd lay awake, his eyes still wide open, looking up towards the ceiling, in the dark he couldn't see anything but dark figures made up by the shadows of the room. He could feel Jeff's slow, relaxed breathing beside him. Could hear his low snoring. Mark cuddled up closer to him, and closed his eyes, tried to fall asleep. He hoped he would get a peaceful night's rest, for once since it began.

"Mark, why don't you love us, anymore. Don't you miss us, don't you want to be with us? We miss you, your little brother cries at night, he misses you so." She stood several feet away from him. Mark shook his head in disbelief. His mother stood in the dark, nothing Mark could see but her, her face wet with tears.

Her image seemed to get brighter, clearer, closer to him so that Mark could see the frecklees on her nose, the same freckles he remembered as a boy, that she would try to cover up, hide with concealer makeup. He looked away, closed his eyes shut tight, tried to will himself awake.

"Mark, why don't you respond to me?, talk to me, please." His mother holds her hands out to him, outstretched towards him, offering him a hug. "Why don't you come to me, your my son, don't you love your mother?" She replies. Her eyes showing confusion, and hurt.

Mark looks up, reluctantly. His mother stood right in-front of him, now. Her arms wrapped around him, he could feel it as if it was real. He had to remind himself that it was just a dream. A crazy dream. One that probably was brought up because of the funeral, and of all the old memories bringing brought back to his mind, since then, of his family. Of his childhood.

Mark had thought he had finished with this all, he had said his good-byes to them that day. But it seemed like they weren't ready to say good-bye to him. The memories flooding back to him, at night. But some of them, like tonight's dream, weren't memories but some weird sub-conscious reunion. He missed his parents, his little brother, still. It did not matter how older he became, how many years added up to when he first lost them. He still longed to see them, perhaps his dreams were telling him that, to remind him that he still had unfinished feelings, but they were gone, died. What was he supposed to do?.

He moved closer to his mother's warm body. He could actually feel her chest move in and out with each breathe she took. Mark could smell her scent, she wasn't one to wear anything fancy, no perfumes, she just felt like...clean. If there's such a smell. She just smelled like her, Mark thought. And he breathed in deeper. He almost was settled into her embrace, when something happened. Something that caused his dream to become a nightmare. It terrified him.

There was such smoke, it engulfed his lungs, he felt sick. He kept coughing, trying to catch his breathe but he couldn't. The more he breathed in, the harder his breathing became. He swore he could almost feel the soot going down his throat, down his windpipe, and filling up his lungs. His head hurt, he tried to fill around the room but he no-longer could see anything. Even, the image of his mother was gone. He was alone in the darkness. He placed his hands out in front of him, trying to feel around, he moved his feet a few inches in-front of him at a time. A few moments later, he thought he felt something up ahead of him. His eyes were burning. The wet tears, not helping with the stinging pain, or the blurriness he was experiancing.

He wondered when he would awake. He heard something. He heard his small quivering voice, it was a whisper. But as he continued walking, the voice became louder. He then saw something in the darkness.

"Mark, Mark. Where are you? I can't see anything. I need help. Mommy, Daddy? Anyone? Help me, please. I'm scared. The little boy, shivered. How could he be so cold, the burning on his legs and arm hurt him. His eyes welled up with fresh tears.

Mark saw him standing there, it was a little boy, he was sitting in the corner of the room. The room still engulfed with darnkess, but a light somehow shined on the boy. Mark had trouble seeing him at first, the smoke still hovering around him. But it was a little boy. He could tell.

"Are you okay?" Mark whispers gently. He walks slowly, his body hunched over to kneel down beside the scared child. When Mark got closer enough to be sitting right down next to him, he looked over to the boy's face. He noticed his eyes, at first glance. The boy's blue eyes showed fear. He held onto Mark's arm, gribbing it tightly. "Where were you, Mark. I was calling for you? You couldn't hear me?" The little boy spoke, Mark closed his eyes in shock.

"Glenn?, that can't be you? Can it?" Glenn looked over to his brother, and giggled, slightly. "Don't be silly, it's not time to play silly games, Mark. Who else would I be?"

Mark looked at Glenn, he stared at him for a long time, taking in his appearance. Just then, the darnkess evaporated. And Mark could see the room they were in. He remembered it from child-hood. It was their old bedroom.

But why, why am I having this dream. When will I wake. It seems like this is the longest dream I've ever had. Will I ever wake up?

He looked down, momentarily. He saw he seemed shorter, all of a sudden. He looked down at his hands, they were so smaller, he remembered they had a mirror in his room, he looked over to it, in was in the corner, one of those long wall mirrors. He saw his reflection, but what he saw couldn't be true. Why do I think this, of course it could be true, it's a dream, he's dreaming. It's all just a dream.

Glenn had his arm wrapped around Mark's. "We have to get out, it's getting smokey, I want mom & dad." Mark looked down at Glenn's little face. His fear still caught in his facial expression. His eyes still wet. Mark comforted him as best as he could. He was still confused. And his head still hurt. "I know your scared. But don't be. I'm here."

"Where's mom and dad?, why aren't they calling for us?, where are they?" Glenn began crying, loudly. Mark looked around the room, he felt dizzy. He didn't know what to do. Should he do anything, it was just a dream, after all. Would it matter, if he just stayed here?. He just wanted to hold Glenn. But Glenn was crying, he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop asking where thier parents were. "Are they dead? are our parents dead?, Mark" Glenn got up frantically.

Glenn stood by their bedroom door, he goes to grab the doorknob, but it burned. He quickly threw his hand up and away from it. He started whimpering. Mark took notice, he got up to his feet. Grabbed Glenn's little hand. The red mark was already blistering the poor liitle boy's fair skin. "It burnt you." Mark whispers. Mark grabbed the doorknob, it was hot. He could see the smoke pillowing in under the door. He started coughing again. Glenn grabbed his hand.

"Why don't I WAKE UP!, ...WAKE UP!" Mark shouts in his head. He didn't understand what was going on, was he supposed to do something? Why hadn't he woken up, yet?.

Just as Mark felt like he was going crazy. The darkness appeared again. Glenn was gone. The smoke was gone, he could breath in deep. But he was alone, again.

Suddenly, there was a light, it was glaring in his eyes, he lifted one arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the light. He heard a yawn. He opened his eyes, they no longer stung with pain. He wiped at them. He still had that god awful light shining in his face, though.

"Are you going to sleep the day away, Mark?" Jeff shouts, opens the curtains more. Causing Mark to sit up, his hand covering up his face. "Do you have to open those?" He replies. He runs his hands through his hair. And looks around the room. It was his bedroom. And Jeff was standing there, his sweats on, shirtless. Hair wet, he smelled the clean fresh scent of Jeff's skin and body wash. "What time is it?" Mark asks.

"8:41 AM. You must have been tired, sleeping this late." Jeff replies, before throwing the shirt he grabbed from the dresser over his head. He tells Mark he's going downstairs and that he expected Mark to be up and out of the bed in the next fifteen, to twenty minutes.

"Or else, I'm going to be coming back up here, we've got alot of chores to do." Jeff demands, sternly. Mark sits up, his eyes still adjusting. "Hey, who's the adult here?" Mark asks.

Jeff rises his eyebrow. "I don't know, you tell me? Who's been sleeping all day?"

Mark shakes his head, places his hands near his face, he swipes at his eyes again. What a weird dream. Here's hoping tonight will be different. He yawns, stretches his arms over his head. He'd better get up before Jeff came in here with a bucket of cold water.

"Glenn, Mark! Are you okay?, answer your father?" Mark was back in his old bedroom, Glenn cowering in the corner. Mark could hear the loud thuds of his father trying to break into their bedroom door. Mark looked down at himself, at his small boy body. He half expected his father to break the door, and rush in. He wanted to see him. He could imagine it. But then he heard a loud noise. It wasn't his father, it was a loud beeping. He had no idea where it was coming from. Then suddenly, the light was shining in his eyes again.

He opened his eyes, it was 6:30 AM. He threw his hand up, slamming it down on the alarm clock, stopping the beeping. He looked over next to him, Jeff was still sleeping. Mark throws the blankets off his legs, he wipes his face, while sitting down on the bed, his legs dangling off the side. He sat there for a few moments, gathering his composure. When would these dreams stop? Why did he have to be tormented by them? Tormented by the past, the past he can not change.

He gets up, walks to the bathroom, he can hear the floorboards creaking beneath him. He runs the facet water on, filling it up halfway. He splashes the water on himself. He runs a wet washclothe over his chest, neck and arms. He had sweated alot in the night. His eyes were red. He could tell he must have been crying in his sleep, again. He signs, deeply. At-least they were over, for the time being. Until the night, when he knew he would be transported back in time, back to that god awful memory. To that room, to a place he wished to move on from. Cause they were dead, and no dream would change that. No matter how much Mark wished it could.

/

Author's note:

So I know it's been like 8 months or something since I've updated this story, a lot of family stuff going on, lately. But I got inspired to write a new chapter, last night. So I hope you like it. Please, review if your reading. Reviews make me want to write more. I don't know if I'll ever finish this story, but for those still reading, I hope you've liked this update.