A/N: Sorry! School is stupid and I've had a ton of projects, and eighth grade is a big homework year. Great.
" I had that dream again last night. The one with the girl."
"Really? I thought that those had stopped."
I walked through the cafeteria with my friend, Jen, empty lunch bags in hand. The cafeteria food was infamous throughout all of New York's Lower East Side.
"No, I just stopped talking about them."
"Hm."
"Also, I found these eight graves yesterday afternoon when I was looking for Dad. They... they just... I don't know what it was but I completely forgot dad and bought them flowers."
"Flowers? Who were they?"
"I don't know. Their names were April, Angel, Thomas, Mimi, Roger, Benjamin, Maureen, and Joanne."
"Hm. Why do you think?"
"I don't know. They're just names to me. Except... then there was Roger Davis. He... I don't know, just... struck me, I think are the words I'm looking for. Like I've heard it before somewhere...."
"You imagination is getting away from you."
"Maybe...."
"I'm taking you to a dream therapist this afternoon."
"You can't pay for that, Jen!"
"No, it's fine. Madame Z doesn't charge first time customers."
"Wait, Jen, I'm not going to a dream therapist who calls herself "Madame Z." She sounds like some psychic kook."
"Bella, please."
"Fine."
"Thank you, Bella!"
"That doesn't mean I'm gonna believe anything she says," I called after her as she flitted away.
The rest of the day passed monotonously until the final bell.
"Great. Time to go see Madame Z," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
I met Jen out front and we walked to Madame Z's "office." It was really just a ramshackle house decorated eccentrically with scarves, candles and books about omens and the like.
"Miss Margaret, how good to see you. And you brought a friend."
A woman with a long dress and a serene, wispy voice came in
"Hey Madame Z."
"Margaret?" I asked doubtfully.
"I was an esteemed customer in a past life."
"Esteemed customer in a past life. " I nodded sarcastically.
"I came to talk to you. My friend, Bella, has been having weird dreams lately, so I wanted you to see what's going on."
'They've been disturbing you."
"Yes," I admitted.
"Come, come, lie down."
She led me over to a green and black silk fainting couch. I lay down, feeling like a mental patient.
"I'm going to put you into a trance, a false sleep which still has you dreaming. You are feeling sleepy..."
I dreamed of Red again. But I also dreamed of the Latina girl I had seen in the hospital. She was lying in my arms, dying, and I was singing to her. I was in the loft I had been in when I had woken up crying. I was with the people I had been with in the hospital. I was singing to her. My voice was strong, but rougher than it should have been with emotion. As I sang the last few notes, she died in my arms.