Paralyzed (ch.1)

NOTICE: Everyone likes to give me mental advice after reading this. This is not based on me, or about me, or ANYTHING. I just wrote it. Stop giving me advice about dealing with my emotions Dx

It was the same dream, again. I was standing on the beach with a big blanket wrapped around me. I seemed to be wearing only a t-shirt underneath the warm shelter of the massive blanket. I stood in the same spot, looking at the ocean for a while, then I slowly turned. Something was watching me. I could feel its eyes burning in my back. Suddenly, my eyes flickered to life. I looked behind me. No one. I look out in the ocean. Nothing but the swaying of the waves. I sighed in relief as I was starting to walk across the shore. I felt something under me. It felt like I was moving, and I was. I threw the blanket off me and tried to run forward, but I couldn't. Something was holding me back, something was grabbing my ankles. As I reached out to the cold wind in front of me I saw something move. There was someone there. Someone invisible to me. Someone I knew, felt, heard, but couldn't see. I grabbed for this presence as I fell to the floor, being dragged by something, someone. I looked back and I screamed.

Usually I woke up at this point of the dream. There was no exact image in my head. It was more of a blob than I could make out. I've had this dream since I was little. My parents divorced, and I was depressed. I never saw my father, and my mother was an unstable, emotional, clueless mess. I was traumatized. Before, when I was little I didn't know who the thin, tall girl was in my dreams. But I theorized it was me. I saw myself older in my dreams, but why? Every night I knew that dream was going to come back, so I made the best of it. I used to focus on only the girl, her face, her neck, her torso, her legs, her feet, and just looked her up and down. She had a slight tan on her skin, and she was tall. She was very thin, but not sickly thin. Just thin enough. She had messy and tangled black hair. Her eyes were a deep dark brown, but flashed green, which I found strikingly odd. Straight nose, even, smooth skin. Her bangs were cut in a slightly odd way. Her eyes were always dead, until she felt the eyes staring at her. Waiting for her to look. Then the girl looked pensive. She seemed like she knew who was there, but she didn't realize who it was. She knew who was watching her, but she didn't know why, I should say. I figured this out when I turned fourteen. I was five-foot-six. On my way to five-foot-eight, just about the height the girl in my dreams looked. I never told anyone about the dream, or the theory that the girl was me.

I had dark brown eyes and a straight nose. My face wasn't as smooth as the girl in my dreams, but it was smooth enough. I had a slight tan on my skin due to the fact that I played soccer. I was thin. There was always something to my eyes. I don't think they are dead. People compliment me on my eyes all of the time. They are dark brown, but they are also green. It's a bazaar combination, and the exact combination of colors in the girl's eyes.

By fifteen, I made up my mind that the girl in the dream was me. I didn't know for sure, but I assumed, and for me, that was good enough.

My mom worried about this dream that I had all-too-often. She would run in my room and calm me down by rubbing her hand against my hair with smooth, even strokes. I would open my eyes a little bit and say “Mom, don't do that. I'm fine. Go to bed.” and my mom would do so. Sometimes I wished she stayed, but she never did.