“You’re only eighteen, Jenna,” Mom says, a wrinkle has formed between her patient eyes. She loves me, but the pain she shows now is not hidden to make me feel better. We are sitting on my bed, the sheets rumpled and kicked towards the foot of the bed. The night-sky outside is pitch black, not even the stars are out tonight. It’s the third night in a row that I’ve had the same sweet dream, followed by a sweaty night terror.


Mom doesn’t believe in fate, she doesn’t believe in destiny, miracles, or things meant to be. My legs are curled into a pretzel, as I rest my chin in my hand on my sweaty thigh. The shorts I wore to bed stick to my skin, and the loose nightshirt is plastered to my upper body. I am conscious that I am breathing very hard, and there is a sharp inkling of pain in my upper chest.



I’ve been having the same dream, and I know what it means, but Mom doesn’t agree with me. Every night, the same story plays behind my eyelids. Instead of being older, there is this ethereal version of myself, my golden-glazed hair is swept in sleek ringlets, and I’m fashioned in a tight pearl-lined bodice that bouquets out into silky white upon the marble floor, my delicate hand is rested in another’s. An emerald is on my left ring finger, and a young baby girl hides shyly behind the long train of my dress. The vision is, surprisingly, my wedding, an event I haven’t even daydreamt of it yet.


The lights flicker in the foreground of my bright dream; a cluster of diamonds in the haze, and another vision sweeps into its place, sucking the breath from me. It is the baby girl behind my dress. She is plucking a daisy from the ground, and holding it up to me. Her pretty little blue eyes squint preciously in the Sun, dimples forming in the corners of her cheeks. She is my baby girl. I know her in an instant. My heart pounds. The vision drains away, and I am left with a stabbing emptiness in my chest.

The third part of the dream, my night terror, comes when I can’t endure the emptiness any longer. The flickering diamonds in my eyes fade fast, and the rest of my body feels heavy, like it’s being pulled down into deep water. From the navy-blue darkness swirls the most comforting face. He resembles my baby girl, his grin has the same dimples, but he is stronger, older, his face is muscularly-jawed and young. His hair is a deep shade of brown, and his eyes are russet orbs. It takes me but a second to realize that, like my baby girl, he is as much a part of me as she is. The love I feel pulse through my veins can easily be related to the caring I might feel for my closest, lifetime friend.


My hands stretch out for him, to pull him in from the back of his neck and kiss him. Eagerly, my fingers spread, inviting. Sleep lulls in the back of my head, as I face an uphill battle on a dark, gravity-ridden slope. His face doesn’t disappear, and that gives me hope. I catch my breath, before I submerge again into the deep ocean and come up screaming.


Mom rubs my knee comfortingly as I cry. My dreams have been the same, and I know it means what I must do.