Death In Dreams

The Screams In the Flames

Innocent toddlers dream about monsters under the bed, beside the bed, or even in the closet. I was a strange child with strange habits. I watched some violent things like snakes strangling other animals to death. But I thought nothing of it, I didn’t understand. Sometimes I dream about seeing the younger me and warning her about things not to do. Like warning her not to be around her dad at certain times to save her from shedding tears or earning scars.

Every Time I got in trouble with my dad, he would either beat me with his hand or with a belt. I hated the belt the most, it was a shiny black leather belt with a silver frame. He always used the belt to hit my back. My mom once told me my father hit me repeatedly on the back and left me on the floor to cry. When she came home, she just found me lying on the floor crying. Later that day she found marks from my dad’s belt on my back. I’m not sure if this affected me as a person but, I do know it twisted thoughts about my father. 

  Nightmares were strange to me. I rarely told people about my dreams and thought of them as small warnings. One dream, in particular, kept coming. I wouldn’t think about it and yet it still came back. I felt like maybe it was because of my dad I am getting this dream of pain. 

It would be pitch black yet bright at the same time. Hellish yet smokeless were far and near. I couldn’t see myself, I was watching what was going on. Confused, but still knew this was a dream. Suddenly, I hear screams of agony. Screams that made the human mind panic. Unpleasant screams of different people who were suffering and wailing for the pain to stop. Cries for help were heard, but couldn’t be stopped. Mourning of those who can’t be saved. “Why am I hearing all of this?” That’s one thing I could ask myself. I heard one scream though, a scream of someone I knew. I look around to see my father. No, what remains of him. A burning skeleton with patches of rotting flesh crying my name. His voice is full of pain and desperate for someone to redeem him from the burning abyss. I knew for a fact his rescue would be impossible. He was a sinner who couldn’t escape prison.

 I helplessly watched and listened. For some reason, I felt a bit calm. “Am I watching people from the future I will soon despise? Will I want suffering to those who have wronged me? No! That can’t be, I refuse to become a monster.” I do fear that one day, I’ll change and become one. A vengeful spirit, thirsty for the pain of those who once hurt me. Once I wake up I don’t think or speak of it. Maybe someone else feels the same way.