| I grew up in a house high on a hill. When I was three or four, I dreamed I reached the kitchen stairs and looked back. Suddenly, I hear Miss Sally callin' and I have a strange feeling about the kitchen, a dark room with a tall ceiling. I felt an evil presence near me. Looking into a mirror, I see someone standing behind me. It has a mask of my mother's face on its head. It grabs me and pushes me down. Instinctively I grab my sister. She is naked and shackled to the floor. She does not respond when I call her name. The pinkie on her left hand has been chopped off and replaced with a metal one. I can't bring myself to touch her. One of the other kids runs and gets scotch tape to tape my fingers down. My mom called to us, "You can be forced to like it." All I can remember is knives and saws and things cutting me apart, limbs all torn asunder by the hands of death. My parents could see layers of skin being lifted off, limbs floating away. They smiled and waved goodbye, and then I woke up. I then awoke incredibly frightened and weeping. I woke from the nightmare. I woke up crying. Then I wake up. I wake up shivering. Then, I wake up.
I see a white flash, and the dream ends.
|