Waking up late in the night, I am barely able to breathe. The raven haired girl’s fear has me nearly paralyzed. The girl from the dream, her face is etched in my memory forever. Sitting up, I try to blink the image away. I reach for the lamp and switch it on. Soft yellow light spreads over the nightstand and blanket.
As my eyes adjust, they fall on the photos. The face from my dream stares back at me hauntingly. The only thing the faces in the photos are missing is the ceremonial paint that the girl in the dream is forced to wear. The silvery eyes look the same, but are filled with very different emotions. The happiness in the photos is obvious, but the fear that overshadows me dulls the emotion and I imagine I can see the desperation behind their smiles.
As I stare at the photos, I realize something else that I should have caught right away. The girl from the dream looks no older than either of the girls in the photos. Why? What is happening? Why are all these girls suddenly reaching out to me? Having no answer to my own questions, I lay staring into the shadows.
I try to understand the fear surrounding me, but I can’t even understand what, if anything is happening to me. I feel as if I am being pulled into something beyond my control. The late night hours stir my mind and lead me to a thousand different conclusions that make very little sense and finally back toward sleep. In the morning I will find some answers. At least, I hope I will.