Dreams

Maybe we like dreams because no matter what happens, we'll always wake up, but what would happen if our dreams were reality? If things happened how they do while you slept in the dead of night. This isn't some fantasy story about how everyone's dreams came true and they overcame everything bad and everyone lived happily ever after. This is about me personally. How my life slipped away and into my dreams, and how I gradually slipped out of this reality. It might sound like a bad thing, I don't know maybe it is, but when you don't have anything left to live for then it doesn't seem anywhere near as bad as living all alone.


It began on a dreary day walking home to my once welcoming house. In the past few weeks it had become a battlefield, full of heated arguments between my mum and dad, and when he felt like joining in, my older brother. I couldn't honestly tell you what these disagreements where about; they all blended into each other. They began about me but slowly changed when my mum said she couldn't handle talking about such things and that she didn't want to talk about it unless we had to. My dads reply to that was to shout and scream and tell her that it was important to talk about. From there the arguments deviated from that subject and I was scared to mention it again, although what none of them seemed to realise is that it mainly affects me and nobody has told me anything. But for the time I'd put the thought out of my mind.


I spent as little time as possible at home and no one noticed that I only came home to shower, change my clothes and to sleep. The majority of my time was spent with Taylor, my summertime boyfriend, who much to my delight had stayed with me into the winter. He lived about 5 houses down from me, and so he told me he never expected to here an excuse on why I couldn't make it round. Why he ever thought I'd want to give him one I don't know but I liked him being slightly possessive of me. We'd met at the beginning of the summer when he'd first moved into town, and had been together every day since then. After an amazing summer we got to school to find we were in all the same classes, which I later got told was his doing, and so our amazing winter together had started and was continuing.


I'd go to his house everday after school and every weekend. I was expected, same time each week unless I really couldn't make it. It was then inevitable that he would then phone in the evening to talk, having missed a day with me. Today was different though. I'd phoned but not to tell him I wasn't coming, but to ask if I could come over.  If im honest this confused me as much as it did him. See today was different. I had to talk to him. Tell him something that I had no idea how to, and for some reason I felt the need to ask before I came to tell him this news. He told me to come over straight away, that he was worried now that I'd asked, and that he needed to see me. I smiled slightly at the urgency that I heard in his voice, but my smile vanished quickly. He should sound urgent. He should be worried.


I hung up the phone and quickly began to walk down the street to his house. The road was silent. I stopped and looked down at what I was wearing. Denim shorts and a vest top. A cold breeze brushed against my bare arms and legs, and I wondered when summer had disappeared, and winter had replaced it. I closed my eyes. I tried to listen but I could hear nothing. It was eerie and gave me a weird feeling. The street was usually full of people, mums with small children, groups of teenagers, old women carrying home small bags of shopping. Apart from me there was no one else. No one walking up the pavement, or driving up the road. I opened my eyes. In the distance I heard a scream.