The Writers Voice
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This story is dedicated to my loving girlfriend
Tara, my family for supporting me, And to my best
friends Scott and Dan for believing in me.
He couldn't sleep at night,
He was becoming someone he wasn't,
He was losing his mind,
Or was he?
Have sweet dreams
They may be your last
Chris had been having disturbing dreams, some would
call them nightmares. They were what some people
would call demented. He was scared to go to sleep
at night. As a result of this he began to act out.
Normally he was a nice, friendly boy. Feeling
concerned for their child, his parent's snuck into
his room one night and stole his journal. Only what
they would find out would shock them. They snuck
back to their room where they both opened the
journal and began skimming through it. Something
caught their eye as both parents looked up at each
Chris had been having demented dreams, dreams about
people dying. His parents kept reading until they
learned more about these dreams. Chris had dreamt
of seeing his parents lying in a puddle of blood on
their living room floor. Also he had dreamt about
his friend Tom dying. Chris didn't tell anyone
about the dreams, he feared what might happen.
"What do we do, Arlene?" Pat whispered to his wife.
Arlene began to cry, she was very worried about her
son. She, like any other mother, only wanted the
best for her son. Pat hugged his wife; he was upset
over the matter as well. Pat let go of Arlene and
wiped the tears away from her eyes.
"We'll talk to him about this tomorrow. I'm sure we
can help him."
Arlene continued to cry; she didn't want to see her
boy acting this way anymore. She wanted to help
him; she wanted him to be happy. Pat's intentions
were the same, he wanted his son to have a happy
"I just... I just..." Arlene said trailing off.
"I know, I know," Pat replied while pressing her
head to his chest. "Let's get some sleep. We'll
talk to Chris tomorrow morning about this and see
what he thinks."
It took Pat a few minutes but he managed to calm
down his wife and get her to bed. Pat had a hard
time sleeping that night; he lay in bed thinking
about what he had read. He thought about the
dreams, he wondered if he was a good enough father.
Or maybe Arlene was not a good enough mother? But
then again, it could have nothing to do with either
of us, Pat questioned himself.
The next morning came quite quickly as early rays
of sunlight peaked through the curtains at Pat. Pat
rolled over to give his wife a kiss, but she was
gone. All there was was empty sheets. He began to
hear someone banging around downstairs. Arlene was
already up and making breakfast. Pat looked at his
alarm clock; it was ten after eight, time to start
Pat was not surprised that Arlene was up early
making breakfast and running around, that was the
way she often coped with problems. Pat rolled out
of bed and threw on an old pair of blue jeans and a
white t-shirt. Next he grabbed his big square
glasses and put them on. He was always getting
taunted for wearing the square glasses growing up.
Even now as a teacher he couldn't escape the
torture of the students mocking him. He didn't have
much to do now, since it was summer. He took up
teaching summer school, but he didn't have to be
there until ten. School only ran until two, which
was not too bad. He slowly walked down the stairs
still half asleep. Arlene was busy frying eggs and
"Hi, honey how are you this morning?" Arlene asked
Pat sat himself down in one the chairs at the table
and rubbed his eyes. He was still half asleep, and
not exactly eager to have this chat with Chris. It
has to be done though, I need to know if and how I
can help my son, Pat told himself.
"I'm good, Arlene. Is Chris up yet?"
Arlene looked at Pat and smiled. She was trying to
avoid the issue that was bugging her, but she knew
that she couldn't avoid it all her life. The
inevitable could not be avoided.
"No I don't think that he's up yet. Why don't you
go and check on him?" Arlene asked in a cheery
"Arlene, stop trying to be cheery, I know you're
not. Don't bottle up your feelings, please. I'm
going up to talk to him, do you want to come or
not?" Pat asked in a calm voice.
"I'm coming." Arlene quickly replied.
Pat and Arlene quickly ascended the stairs and
stood before Chris's room. Pat knocked on the door
and awaited Chris's response.
"Come in." Chris replied groggily.
Pat and Arlene opened the door to their son's room.
His room like usual was a mess, clothes lined the
floor and dishes were stacked quite high on top of
his dresser. The walls of his room were plastered
with posters of various bands. Pat tip toed over
Chris's belongings and sat down on his bed. Chris
peeked through one of his eyes at his father. Pat
reached out and shook Chris slightly to try and
wake him up.
"What d'you want?" Chris said while pulling the
blankets over his head.
Pat grabbed the blankets from around Chris's head
and ripped them away. Chris lay in his pajama pants
and a muscle shirt, holding his hands over his
face. It was evident that he was up late again, Pat
thought to himself. He had a bad habit of always
staying up late at night. Even when school was on
he would always stay up late. It didn't matter if
it was a school night, he still stayed up late. He
was stubborn, just like his father.
"We need to talk to you about something important,
Chris." Pat began.
"We stole your journal last night and read it."
Chris sat up immediately and threw his sheets. He
was in shock; his parents had invaded his privacy.
"You did what?" Chris yelled.
Chris could not believe that his parents would do
such a thing. His journal was a very personal thing
that no one had the right to invade. After reading
his journal they came in his room, they know, Chris
thought, they know about my dreams. He was in
trouble; Chris began to panic in his mind.
"Calm down." Pat said sensing that Chris was
panicking about the situation.
"Chris, honey, we just want to help you. We want
you to have a happy life; we want you to be happy.
So please let us help you. Please," Arlene pleaded.
All Chris felt was anger, he was mad at his parents
for invading his privacy. He hated the fact that
they would just go and steal his journal. They
should have asked him if he was okay or something,
he thought to himself. What they did was wrong, and
he had to let them know that. He couldn't have
something like this happening again.
"You guys had no right to invade my privacy and
read my personal thoughts. What you guys did was
just wrong, and I can't forgive you for that! Get
out!" Chris yelled while pointing to the door.
"Now, son..." Pat began. "We are just trying to
help you. You wouldn't open up to us so we took
matters into our own hands. We did it because we
care about you, not because we wanted to invade
your privacy. We are not like that, we love you."
Pat replied calmly, trying to grasp the situation.
Chris knew his parents loved him, but what they did
was inexcusable in his mind. They hadn't asked him
if he was okay. Instead they just went into his
room and stole his journal. They never tried to sit
down and talk with him.
"Get out!" Chris yelled again.
"Fine, but when you're ready to talk, come see us."
Arlene said in an upset voice.
Chris's parents left his room finally. Chris opened
the blinds to his windows; it was raining out.
Chris sat up in bed, with his blanket curled around
himself. Chris was sick of having all of those
demented dreams, and sick of hiding the reason
behind why he was acting odd. The dreams almost
changed him, they were that disturbing. They had
made him slip into a world of depression that he
hated. He hated being depressed; it was something
that he never was. That was until these dreams
He got up from his bed and walked over to his
window seat where he sat himself down. Deep down he
was scared, scared that the dreams could be true.
He was scared that he could end seeing his parents
dead or his friend dead. He was truly afraid for
the first time in his life. He did not want to go
to sleep most nights because of these dreams, he
feared going to sleep. He didn't want to wake up
from one of these dreams again. There was fear
brewing in his stomach, he was afraid.
Chris understood why his parents were concerned
about him; after all he was their son. At the same
time though, he felt like he was violated. Maybe my
parents were right, maybe they could help him, he
pondered. Chris lay back on the window seat
listening to the gentle rain falling, closed his
eyes and fell back asleep.
While Chris was sleeping he had a dream, he saw his
girlfriend Tracy lying on the floor with a knife in
her stomach. She was dead and a man was standing
over her with a blurred face, Chris could not see.
Chris awoke in a cold sweat, he was scared, scared
that this dream might also come true. He opened his
eyes and looked around his room. It was all a
It was another disturbing dream; tears began to
fall down the cheeks of Chris's face. He was upset,
he couldn't sleep, what every human being could do
he could not. This brought back his depression
again, only this time it was worse. He sat at the
window seat weeping for quite some time; his mother
heard him and rushed up the stairs. Arlene knocked
on the door.
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