109- Real and repeating


    I dream about the little girl again. How did I forget about her? It’s not the same dream although it is


    definitely the same girl. Her white–blonde shoulder length hair which was so tidyst time is unkempt


    and looks like it could use a good wash and brush. Her eyes are still rimmed in red, but she’s not crying


    anymore. She’s…. Staring. Her eyes are zed over and looking off in space with a vacant expression.


    It’s somehow even worse than the tears. It’s almost like she’s not in there anymore. Like a little broken


    doll in nnel pyjamas. Her body is limp, sitting on the floor with her legs out to the side and shoulders


    drooping. The only proper sign of emotion that I can identify are the tight fists at her sides, squeezed so


    tight that her knuckles have turned white. I want to step towards her, pick her up off the floor, hold her,


    anything to return some life to her face, but I can’t. In this dream, I don’t seem to have a body or any


    kind of form. It’s like I’m stuck watching through a screen. The girl suddenly moves, looking up as if


    someone was speaking to her, but I can still only see her and darkness. Horror crosses her face and I


    regret wishing the nk expression away because this is so much worse. She begins shaking her head


    no, backing up on her hands sliding on the floor. Invisible hands yank her to her feet. She starts crying


    again and a momentter whatever or whoever is yanking her pulls again and she vanishes.


    Everything goes dark, and I wake up. I bolt upright and I’m crying. It’s dark and my sudden movement


    causes Bemy to stir beside me.


    “Ryann?” He asks, his voice croaky and groggy. I can’t answer him, I’m too busy crying. This is the


    second time I’ve dreamed of this girl. At least. I know I dreamt of herst night, I was going to tell


    Bemy but I didn’t and somehow she just… faded. Bemy realises I’m crying and immediately pulls


    himself up and flicks themp on. I cringe and blink against the bright. light. Even once my eyes have


    adjusted they’re still blurry from the tears. Bemy picks me up and pulls me into hisp, cradling me


    and stroking my hair.


    “Hey, hey… shhhh. What’s wrong darling? What can I do?” Bemy asks gently, a touch of anxiety in


    his tone, but he hides it well. I can only tell because everything he does has a touch of anxiety recently.


    I continue letting out huge sobs for a minute then I start trying to match my breathing to Bemy’s.


    Taking slow, rxed breaths. With my head against his chest I can feel his heart racing, although not


    as fast as mine is. It probably takes almost ten minutes for me to pull myself together well enough to


    speak. When I do answer, my voice is hoarse and my chest tight like it’s being crushed. Bemy waits


    patiently for me to get ahold of myself.


    1/3


    109- Real and repeating


    “I had a dream, about a little girl.” I croak out. I tell Bemy all the details of my dream. He rubs my


    back and holds me close as I exin.


    “That sounds horrible. I should have made sure you didn’t go to bed thinking and worrying about the


    missing girl. Of course you would have a nightmare.” He sighs. I sit back a little.


    “Are you seriously ming yourself for my nightmares now? Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, it can’t be


    because of what we discussed. Because I’ve dreamed about the girl before. This is the second time. I


    dreamed about herst night, BEFORE any story hit the papers.” I exin. Bemy goes quiet.


    “Are


    you sure?” I can tell he’s doing his best not to be dismissing, but his tone betrays doubt.


    “I’m positive. I don’t even know if it’s the same girl. But I’ve dreamed of her at least two times now.” I


    insist. Bemy nods.


    “It’s okay, I believe you. Maybe it’s the opposite? Maybe the story about the missing girl hit you so hard


    because you had a dream about a little girlst night and if that’s the case, then of course you would


    dream about it again.” He reasons. Huh, I suppose that’s possible.


    “But that would be such a weird coincidence.” I mutter. Bemy shrugs.


    “It’s still possible. Besides, how well do you remember the first dream? Isn’t it possible that your mind


    changed details to match the story better?” He adds. I nod slowly. Then shake my head.


    “Yes, maybe, I don’t know. I just can’t help feeling I’m supposed to do something. But I have no idea


    what. Even if the little girl in my dreams is real, what can I do? Or what if she


    represents som else? Or what if it’s just my mind being cruel and making me


    miserable?” I finish, hopelessly. Bemy reaches and pushes some hair out my face, wiping away the


    tears that haven’tpletely dried yet.


    “Regardless, there is absolutely nothing that we can do about it right now. It’s reallyte and you should


    try to sleep more.” He suggests. I shake my head hard.


    “No


    way, I couldn’t get to sleep if you paid me.” I insist.


    2/3


    109- Real and repeating


    “Try.” He demands. I shake my head again.


    “I can’t, and even if I do, all I can think about is the girl in my dreams. I’ll just have the same nightmare.”


    I sigh mournfully. Bemy thinks for a moment then nods to himself, a decision made.


    “Lie back and listen then.” I tilt my head in curiosity but Iply. He leans over and tucks in the sides


    of the nket around me, making sure I’m snug andfortable. Next, he grabs the book he was


    reading earlier from the bedside table. He ignores the bookmark and flips back to the beginning. Then


    he starts to read, his voice calm and rxing. It’s some mystery book. about a bank heist. I’m so tired I


    barely even pay attention, I just let the soothing sound of Bemy’s voice lull me back to sleep. During


    the night I wake twice more. Both times I’m crying and I have the impression of fear, but I don’t


    remember what exactly I dreamed. It must be the girl, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to


    remember anymore details. Each time, Bemy wakes with me. We don’t talk, he just holds me close


    and soothes me to the best of his ability until I fall back to sleep.


    In the morning I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. My eyes are red, sore and all gunky from crying. My


    lips are chapped, probably from biting at them and my chest aches. I also have a throbbing headache


    starting in my temples and running down the back of my neck. Add in the poor amount of sleep I


    actually got and it’s no surprise that I don’t want to be awake. But of course, this is one of the rare


    mornings when I wake early and can’t get back to sleep. Bemy is still asleep and I decide to leave


    him. He probably slept almost as badly as me since he woke up every time that I did. I creep my way


    out of bed SUPER slowly doing my best not to jostle him. If my head didn’t hurt so much, I might do a


    little happy dance that I actually seeded, but the thought of showing that much enthusiasm makes


    me want to hurl so yeah… no. I tip toe carefully over to the closet to find something to wear. I slide it


    open, cringing at the rumbling sound the wheels make then I stop and stare.Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.