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Alone and dark. That's what this was. And to be honest, I didn't think that I could dream up something like this. And it hurt to think that I had some kind of morbid fascination with it all. It felt like a dark night, the kind where the clouds cover the sky, blocking out the stars. And yet as with dreams, everything was lit and easy to see.

The people here still make me wonder. Why them? I was there, like I was when I was twelve. Lanky, awkward, in a long t-shirt and shorts. My hair was short too, and my crooked teeth were back. Why did I picture myself like this? Perhaps I didn't like it then, and I figured that part of me should suffer the most.

My brother, my father, and my boyfriend. My sister and mother were not there, as if they weren't important. It was windy outside, so furious that I could not hear the words of my male companions. We were huddling in the living room, expecting something. I could feel that it was bad, really bad, and I thought like I should have known what it was.

I live in the country, almost surrounded by fields. So when you look out of our living room window, you can see the lights of the nearby city. When it's cloudy, it's brighter and orange. We were watching the lights play on the clouds.

And then there was an explosion. The distance city looked as if it was struck with a nuclear bomb, that mushroom cloud rising high into the sky. We felt the backlash, the after wave. And then, strange enough it started to rain.

I love the rain. For several reasons. It's calming, it's cool, and it's cleansing. So for a moment, I thought all would be well. Then I noticed that the rain was red. Then I realized that it was raining blood. I had this awful feeling that the blood belonged to my mother and my sister.

The dream goes fuzzy here. I think we ran and hid in the basement, and my father and boyfriend did little in the ways of comfort. My brother tried to kill my budgies, but that is all I remember from this one. I think I woke up crying.