Dreams

I woke up drenched in cold sweat, it was the dream again. It was as if I looked down from above, perhaps a hole drilled into the floorboards from the room above. I could see a small child huddled in a corner of the cold hard concrete room. She faced the corner only the short cut blonde hair visible, with her arms and legs almost tucked out of sight. She folded herself inwards, seemingly collapsing in and becoming so compact and noticeably tiny. I don't know why but I could feel that she was a girl, and a very young one. She wore an old gray tee-shirt, multiple sizes too big, it was obvious she had not bathed in a long time; dirt stained the skin on the bottom of her feet and the small portion of her arms I could see, a sickly brown-gray color. Even her blonde hair was filthy, it almost appeared as if it was a light brown. This girl was being tortured, the conditions she was left in were so bad it made my heart weep.

Trying to get this awful image out of my head, I tried the trick my dad had taught me when I was three. I pictured the face of a barbie as I tried and fall asleep. I know I am a little old for this trick, about to leave for college, but it had always helped before. I did fall into another sleep, only to be woken by the dream again about an hour and a half later. This time however the dream was different; worse, even more daunting, and vivid.

Once again I was looking down from above, however, the young girl had changed positions. Every night for the past month, when I had this dream, the girl had never once changed where she was in the room. She never before showed me her face.

She was now standing, looking directly at me. Now seeing her facial features, it was obvious she was a young girl, no older than four. Her skin frail, freckles lightly covering her cheeks, she had long dark eyelashes that framed her bright piercing blue eyes. Her blonde hair was short, coming down to only her chin, and hacked off in blunt uneven ends. It looked as if somebody had cut her hair quickly with scissors. She stared up at me, her chin starting to quiver. “Help.” That single word haunted me throughout the following day. I could constantly hear her frail whisper of a plea in the back of my mind.
I went to bed that night, knowing I would see the girl again. I lay silently staring up into the darkness of my room until it consumes me.
This time I saw the same image, the young girl staring up at me. “Help.” She whispers, “before he comes.”
“Don’t worry sweetie, he can’t hurt you anymore.” I find myself responding. My point of view slowly shifts as I begin to look up into a living room. The house is styled with very modern architecture, The bright green walls accentuate the white sharp-edged furniture. I round the corner and open the door to the cellar, sprinting down the stairs.
This time when I wake up I know exactly where the dream has taken place. I look out my window, across the yard to my neighbors house. A man had just moved in last week, he seemed to keep to himself only coming out of the house to get groceries, oddly enough late at night. He had looked pretty average to me, but now I had my doubts. The thought of him setting me on edge.
I suppress my doubts and walk into the living room turning on the television to the late-night news. Having such a hectic schedule, I have not been able to watch the news or read the newspaper in some weeks. I was expecting a few things to have gone on in the outside world while I have been busy. What I see sends chills down my spine. Freezing me in fear. “Police have yet to find four-year-old Seneca, the search still continues.” The reporter reads, the young girl I see every night in my dreams stares back at me from the screen. Her blue eyes holding mine as I stared back. “ The young girl was taken from the meijers on Ten Mile, late last Tuesday night. If you or anybody you know has any information on the young girls disappearance please notify law enforcement immediately. Her foster parents are becoming increasingly worried and ask anybody available to help.”
In the background I hear a car start up, I turn around and see that my neighbor is making his nightly run to the store, leaving every light on in the house. I grab my phone and run out of the door across the street. I frantically call 9-1-1 as I break the window to get inside. “Hello, yes, I know where Seneca the young girl is!” I tell them completely confident in my dreams.