The Dream

"I’ve been having these dreams," I say.

The room is quiet, the only sound coming from the fan’s steady hum. I hate it here. Therapy wasn’t my idea—my husband pushed me into it. After my outbursts. After the dreams.

"What kind of dreams?" the therapist asks. Dr. Dennis Rowley. Red hair, wire-rimmed glasses, slim—your classic therapist look.

I hesitate. He’s going to laugh at me. He probably thinks I’m ridiculous. "I dream about the world ending."

He sits up slightly, his pen tapping against his notebook. He raises a brow, waiting for me to continue.

"Well," I think back to the recurring nightmare, "one second, everything is fine. I’ll be making dinner or planting flowers. But then, all of a sudden, the world starts to explode. It begins with the house next to mine. Then the next. And the next. I rush to the TV and turn on the news. ‘The World Is Ending!’ it always says. I start panicking. I call my husband, grab my daughter, and pack go-bags. But my husband doesn’t make it home—his car blows up before he can. There are screams all around me, my neighbors running in terror. I take my daughter, get in the car, and drive. Everything is burning. She’s crying. I keep driving, but the destruction never stops. I reach a bridge, about to cross, and then—" I swallow hard. "I wake up."

"Hm." Dr. Rowley writes something in his notebook. Probably something along the lines of This lady’s crazy.

"That’s quite an interesting dream," he says. "Have you been feeling stressed lately? A lot of times, anxious dreams like this stem from real-life stress—losing a loved one, job changes, financial struggles, things like that."

I shake my head. "My life is fine. I have nothing to worry about."

---

I leave therapy feeling worse than when I arrived. I knew it wouldn’t help. These dreams feel so real, too real. I barely sleep at night anymore. 

I get into my car and start the drive home. I’m going crazy. That’s all it is. It happened to my mother. And her mother before her. Now, it’s happening to me. I just have to accept my fate.

I call my husband.

"Margo? How was therapy?" Theo asks.

"It was great, Theo. Definitely something I needed," I lie.

"That’s so good to hear! Did he give you advice to help you sleep?"

"Yeah, he did. I’ll try it tonight." I feel bad lying, but I can’t tell Theo the truth. He worries too much.

"Great! I’ll see you at home. Love you."

"Love you too." I hang up the phone. I can already tell this will be another sleepless night. 

When I get home, I send the babysitter away and spend some time with Ava before making dinner.

She’s so pure. Innocent. I pray I don’t ruin her like my mother ruined me. She’s barely 2 years old and already too precious for this world.

I set her on the couch and put on her favorite show while I start on dinner.

I pour myself a glass of wine to calm my nerves. I try to stop thinking about the dreams and think about my life now. I have a good life. A perfect husband and the sweetest daughter. I need to focus more on that and not the end of the world. 

I set my wine glass down and pull out the ingredients for dinner. I glance over at Ava to make sure she’s alright. She sits there in pure bliss. Trying to sing along to her favorite show. Not a care in the world for anything around her. I need to be more like that. 

I look at the framed picture of the three of us. Everything is going to be ok. I remind myself. No need to worry so much. I turn my attention back to preparing dinner. A little more at ease.

As I chop cucumbers, a faint sound hums in the background. My heart stops. No. This isn’t real. I shake it off and keep chopping.

Ava’s show shuts off. I turn to the TV. The screen is black. She looks up at me, confused. I reach for the remote—

The TV flickers on.

An emergency broadcast.

A news anchor appears. "Everyone remain calm," she starts. The screen cuts to black again. My heart slams against my ribs.

This isn’t real. I remind myself. I go to pick up Ava. 

The lights go out. The entire house goes dark.

Sirens blare outside—not ambulance sirens. Not police sirens. These are different.

The world is ending.

I grab Ava and run to my bedroom to start packing go bags. I try to call Theo but my hands are shaking so badly. The call won’t go through.  

"Pick up, Theo. Please." My voice cracks. Ava starts crying. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. I can’t help her.

In my dreams, Theo dies. I don’t want him to die.

I pack us up into the car and try Theo again. Still no answer. 

I start driving. No destination in mind. Just away. Away from the chaos. The buildings erupt in flames. Ava screams. Tears blur my vision, but I don’t stop.

I try Theo one last time.

That’s when I see it.

A familiar car, engulfed in flames.

A choked breath leaves my lips. "No." My mind flashes back to the dreams.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

I wipe my face and keep driving. I have to get out of here.

We drive for hours. The destruction never stops. The buildings are still blowing up. The people continue to scream. I keep driving. The world is on fire. This can’t be real. 

My car beeps and I look down at the gas gauge. Empty. I look up to see where we are. 

A bridge.

Not just any bridge. The exact bridge from my dreams. I look back at Ava but she’s not there. I cry out for her. 

This isn’t real.

I step out of the car, my body trembling. Tears flood my face. Fire and destruction consume everything around me, completely engulfing the world in chaos. 

I step onto the bridge.

And I wake up.