The Dream

I am restless; I can't sleep. I dress and start walking the streets; it is dark, so dark. A few street lamps dot this area of London. Gazing up, at the one next to me, I see a moth dancing feverishly next to the flickering glow. It seems frantic and bangs into the glass, stunned, it tries again; a relentless act of self destruction. My thoughts on the moth are broken by a rustle and her words, 'hall'o dearie'; as I turn in the direction of the sound I feel an object in my hand and I grip it so tightly my fingers ache. I look at the creature standing closer to me now, she repulses me. Dirty and torn skirts, hair matted around a worn and sunburned face of wrinkles with black holes for eyes; her mouth gapes open to show a few teeth that are brown and withered. Her hands reach out towards me and a cackle begins in her throat that only seems to grow louder the closer she gets to me. I must shut her up! The witch must be stopped. As I lunge towards this hideous creature I realize what is in my hand, an eight inch blade that glimmers in the glow of the street lamp. I stab her over and over, but she keeps laughing... I am the moth to the flame.

Reeling back from my kneeling position, I stare at the body, which is now motionless and quiet. As if a fog had obscured, distorted my original vision, I now realized the woman lying there was familiar to me. In fact, it wasn't any ugly, old hag... she was beautiful with golden curls framing her delicate face and ruby lips; her body covered by a well tailored dress of pink and grey taffeta, now laying like a fan on the street...suddenly fear and panic filled me and I realized...Oh my god! I've just killed Grace!!

NO!! My own screams woke me and I found myself still in my room, tangled up in my beds sheets from the struggle against the horror I just experienced. In the name of heaven... why did I dream that?