((The words are not straight, as if while writing this Syllea was shaking. At the bottom of the page are two small water drops, one could assume they are the child's tears.))
Dear Mother and Fath
Dear Me,
Father has recommended I start writing about my dreams to help me sleep. I have procrastinated with it for my dreams haunt me very much. I had been avoiding sleep for the past couple of days because I don't want the nightmares to find me in my slumber. I finally forced myself to sleep last night after drinking some tea that made me quite sleepy. The nightmares start very soon after my eyes shut; I tremble just thinking of them.
There is one in particular that always causes my heart to beat rapidly, and my hands to shake. This is the one I feel is most critical to write about...
Here is the dream nightmare...
It's a beautiful sunny day, and I see Father and Papa sitting on a blanket in an open field. It seems as if they are having a picnic, but their backs are turned to me. I run over to join them; that is when I see their faces. Father's eyes are dull, lifeless, and blood drips from a gash in his forehead. Papa...Papa's lips are curled into that of disgust and anger, like that I saw when he was trying to kill Father's father. Blood flows from his mouth and eyes, and his hands covered in the sticky red blood. In my dream, I step back but trip and fall to the ground. Both of them stand over me and make to grab for me. I shut my eyes, and when I reopen them, Mama and my blood Papa stand over me. Fear is in their eyes; Papa's brow is creased in worry. Before I can say anything... blood starts to drip from Mama's neck...in the same spot, she was beheaded by the murderer. Papa falls to his knees as blood starts seeping from his chest through his shirt. I stay frozen in place as I watch them bleed out, unable to help, unable to scream. As they let out a last breath, I see their murderer standing behind them. The hooded figure that killed them looks up, and just before I wake, I see its eyes... the eyes I know so well, for I see them every time I look in a pool of water or a mirror. My eyes stare back at me, taunting me with the life I have and the life others have lost.
I always wake up from this nightmare shaking and crying, but I never scream. I can't because I will wake Papa and Father. I don't know if I could relate this nightmare to them in spoken words because it scares me so. I do hope that writing down the nightmare will make it go away...but I am unsure. I sit in a grand house of Papa's now, sitting on a table of maps. I probably should get to work on my parent's cottage, but I think I may stay here for a bit longer. I may be needed to keep the peace of those who stay here.
Love,
Syllea
