Fearful Dream

All she wanted was a break. She wanted to travel. She wanted to focus on school. She wanted to clear her mind. She just wanted to relax. Her head swam with ideas as she climbed the alps in switzerland. She had plots running through her head as she basked in the sun on the gorgeous New Zealand beaches. The melodic low-fi music she played while completing her essays made her want to develop a character. She wanted to write. 

But, she didn’t. 

She continued to take her break, forgetting all her ideas. She continued to go on road trips with her friends and attend parties at night. She continued to put all her ideas in the back of her mind. 

Now here she sat staring at an empty page. The TV was off. The music was paused. There was complete silence. She was frustrated, why couldn’t she write? No plots came to mind. No ideas. Nothing. 

She walked around her bedroom. She opened the window. She looked at the children playing catch outside. She ate a snack. She scrolled through her social media. Still nothing. 

What happened to all the ideas she had a while on her break? 

Why can’t she remember? 

It was useless. She decided she wasn’t cut out for writing. Would she do better as a photographer? Should she try out baking? Is English the right major for her? She was conflicted. 

The sun set. 

She turned the lights off. 

She closed the window and blinds. 

She turned the TV back on. 

She gave up. 

Her eyes began to shut. Her sheets engulfed her into a soft sea of dreams. 

She was in a basement, locked behind bars. The cement floor was freezing cold. There were shackles hanging menacingly from the wall. The yellow light above her was flickering. She was scared. There was a scraping against the wall, followed by echoing footsteps. 

“Now where is my little girl..” A rough voice said. 

A young looking boy stood in front of her. His hair was disheveled and his clothes were ripped and bloodied. He held tightly onto a rusted knife.

“Hello there, I’m Aiden.” He smiled softly. He looked innocent.

Something was off. 

“Who are you..” Her voice trembled. Her body shook. Was she going to die? 

He snickered, kneeling down onto the floor. “I just said I was Aiden. Don’t you remember me?” 

Even if she looked 20 years into her past. Even if she went through each individual memory. He didn’t look familiar. She couldn’t recognize him. 

She mustered up all her courage to shake her head, No.

“That's too bad. Although, I don’t know you either.” He began to examine his knife. Running his fingertip along the edge of it. 

She started looking for a way out. There were no windows. Her cell was empty. The bars that kept her locked inside were too thin for her to stick her arm through. She was stuck. 

Aiden stood up and left. No words were exchanged between the two. He was gone. He left her there. 

Now she was in a forest. Running. Panting. Constantly looking behind her. 

What was she running from? Who was she running from? 

Her legs didn’t stop. 

Her heartbeat increased. 

She knew she was in danger. She knew it. 

She didn’t know why. 

Her foot got caught under a rock, sending her flying into the air head first. Her elbows raked against the forest floor, wounds opened up on her knees. She felt her clothes begin to tear and rip apart. 

She rolled to her back and sat up, scared to see what would appear before her. Scared to see what had been chasing her. 

“Yoo hoo!!” She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. 

Startled, she stood up, whipping her body around to see what was behind her. 

Aiden was squatting down on the ground. His clothes were clean now. His hair was brushed. She didn’t see his knife. 

“Why were you running from me, huh?” He asked, standing up and brushing off his clothes. “You know I hate running. Too much effort.” 

“I...I don’t know…” She began to take steps backwards. 

He stepped towards her, “well I do..” He grinned. 

His hand snuck behind his back and appeared swiftly, this time grasping onto the rusted knife. Of course he wouldn’t chase her unarmed. 

She felt it was the end. He knew it was the end. 

She stood there patiently. 

He ran towards her, Sticking the knife straight out at her. 

She closed her eyes and soon felt pain in her stomach. 

She felt herself gasping for air. She felt a warm liquid soak her already dirty shirt. 

Then…. 

Everything went dark. 

She woke up gasping for air. The light of the TV illuminated her pitch black bedroom. 

She hurried to turn the lamp on her bedside table on. 

What just happened? She was scared. Scared of being alone in her house now. Scared that her dream was a reality. 

She felt around for her phone on the bed. It was blending in with her sheets. 

2:47 a.m. 

She whipped open the notes app on her phone and immediately started typing out what happened in her dream. 

Fear. 

That’s what she felt. 

But now? She was happy. Excited. She wanted to get up and dance around the room. She wanted to pop her head out the window and scream to the world, “I have an idea!” 

She had a genre. A horror book. 

She had a plot. Kidnapping. 

She had an antagonist. Aiden. 

She had a protagonist. Her. 

This time, she vowed to never take a break again. She vowed to practice her writing. She vowed to never suppress her ideas. 

Taking a break is good for her mind. Yet, not practicing is detrimental to her craft. 

She learned her lesson. 

She learned that even if she was taking a vacation, she needed to write something daily, even if it was only a sentence. 

And so she sat up all night long, creating her next book.