Darcy lay in her bed, she tossed in turn having another wierd dream. In her dream she saw her brother Randall, he was walking toward her saying something. She didn't know what it was, there was no sound but Darcy's voice. Randall's mouth moved so fast it seemed like a blur rather than words, his face was painted with a caring look and a warm smile. The outline of his body glowed a soft white light, and he was still walking toward Darcy. As he neared her, his face turned from caring to horror as fire filled the dark space between them. "Randall!" Darcy called in her dream, but the fire disappeared with her brother along with it.
Darcy sat right up in bed, breathing fast and heavy. The front of her light pink tank top had a sweat mark on it. She put her hands over her face, and felt her forehead was covered with sweat. She swung her feet over the bed to where they on the floor, but she was still sitting on the bed. She stood up and went to the bathroom, she looked at herself mirror. Her eyes had dark cricles under them, and her hair was a matted mess. She wetted a wash cloth in the sink and wiped off her forehead, she then walked out and the bathroom and change her shirt to a red tank top. She went to her nightstand and open the top drawer, she took out a compostion notebook that red and black. She opened it and looked at all her writing entrys about her dreams she'd been having.
The last entry was about her parents and her brother. She turned on her lamp on the nightstand and took tv dinner table that had it's leg torn off and sat on the bed. She began to write about her dream before she forgot, it took her about an hour to write how it started, the middle of it, and how it ended. She set the book down on the nightstand and lay down with her arms crossed behind her head. She stared at the ceiling. Why do I keep having these dreams?
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