Scaring Myself Into Reality

The pool was huge, an Olympic sized pool I think. The water looked dark and cold, I didn’t want to jump in but I had to. My sister was drowning, and fast. She was wearing my grandmother’s floor length fur coat, and the weight of it in the pool was causing her to sink down to the unseen bottom. I dove in and grabbed her arm; I tried my hardest to carry her to the top. My lungs heaved and burned, begging for more oxygen. I awoke gasping for air. This was the first of my reoccurring nightmare, and it all began just one year after my grandma had died from lung cancer.

Second reoccurrence:

It was the night before entering a new school. My family had moved from Kenilworth to Northfield and I had to leave all my friends behind. I was a nervous wreck. At dinner I barely spoke a word. Thoughts of me tripping in the hallway, sitting alone at lunch, and coming out of the bathroom with toilet paper stuck to my foot, kept flashing in my mind. The nightmare came that night.

Third reoccurrence:

It was the night before my family and I were going to fly to Mexico for winter break. It was the first time I had flown since 9/11. I had officially bitten all my finger nails off and began to pick at my nail polish. I was tense and told my parents that I wanted to stay home. Their reassurance gave me some comfort, until I woke up at three in the morning, gasping for air from the nightmare. I was not going on that plane. My mom gave me a sleeping pill and when I woke up I was in Mexico.

Fourth reoccurrence:

My grandpa died when I was fourteen from a heart attack. It was sudden and affected my dad more than I thought. My dad’s side of the family is Catholic, and this meant an open casket. I had never seen a dead body before and the thought terrified me. The night before the wake, my nightmare came again.

Fifth reoccurrence:

It was the night after I got back from the Dominican Republic. I had just spent a week helping to build an orphanage. While I was there I saw and learned things beyond anything I could have ever imagined. The nightmare came the night I returned, only this time I was strong enough to pull my sister to the top.

I haven’t had the nightmare again.

Left Behind

The plastic red swing was worn and soft beneath my legs. I was just six years old and swinging on the Sears School playground. My mom waited in our minivan for my sister to get out of school. I couldn’t see our car from my place on the swing. I quickly got lost in my own world of trying to touch the fluffy white clouds above me with my light up sneakers. Pumping my legs as hard as I could to get higher and higher, I didn’t realize the bell had rung and school had ended. My sister and mom left without me.

My greatest fear:
Being alone.

I knew from day one that he was going to be my best friend. I knew he would like all the same things as me. I thought we would never leave each other’s side. I was wrong. Our secret club meetings were held above my garage, we decorated it with a disco ball and N’sync posters. Each day after school we would bring a bag of gummy bears and coke up to our hideaway. It was always hot and stuffy up there but we didn’t care. It was ours and no one could take it away from us. The discussions revolved around spying on our siblings, stealing diaries, and trying to get two beds and a t.v into our clubhouse. We were more then best friends, we were like family. Then one day he left.

I slept with my t.v on until I was nine; the sound of voices in the room helped me fall asleep. I still sleep in the middle of the bed. If I sleep on one side it reminds me that no one is on the other.


As my game continues on the swing I begin to notice the sun disappearing. The clouds are no longer white and puffy, but dark and heavy. A faint grumble approaches me from behind. I don’t want to touch the sky anymore; I run from the playground in the direction of my car. What I discovered was an empty parking lot. A drop of water runs down my face. It wasn’t raining yet.

I am now a senior in high school and up until three days ago I had been dating the same guy for two years. He was the voice in my room at night that helped me fall asleep. He was that best friend who moved away. And now he isn’t. Who will fill that void?

That was it. His dad got a new job in Connecticut and they had to move. I felt my heart break for the first time in my life. I was in fifth grade and my best friend was leaving. As we said our goodbyes we promised to stay in touch and promised we would visit each other as much as we could. We both wound up disappointed. I stood on my driveway the day he moved and watched his minivan drive away until I couldn’t see it anymore. I haven’t heard from him in two years. Our clubhouse is vacant and I was left to play alone.

In less then twenty days I will blow out eighteen candles. My wish: to never end up alone. After that, I will be considered an adult. Can adults have fears?

My light-up sneakers were my only comfort in the rapidly darkening sky. I now sat under an overhang near the school’s front door. I closed my eyes and hugged my knees as if I was holding on to someone else. A brightness penetrated my closed lids. There before me was the silhouette of my mother running from our minivan. Her warm embrace was filled with remorse and love. She had only been gone for fifteen minutes, but it felt like years.