“Ricki! Wake up! Today’s your birthday!” My sister, Jane, screamed in my ear. And I did wake up, of course. I mean, when you have a megaphone for a sister, that happens a lot. I ran to the living room; I couldn’t wait to see my presents! Even though I already knew what they were.
See, I was born with this ‘gift’. I can dream reality. Now, I’m not just saying that because it sounds cool. I can really see the future in my dreams. And it’s not like I can dream whatever I want. These dreams-or nightmares-sometimes just hit me, and I have to see them come true before my eyes. The nightmares aren’t that huge-I mean, they’re bad alright, but not that big, really. I mean, one example is when my Grandma Pearl. I could see her dying, her having a heart attack. But I couldn’t do anything to protect her.
There was this other time, Dave Wilson-middle school’s heart throb, winner of every girl’s heart, including mine-and I were talking. In my nightmare, I had seen myself spilling coffee on my white blouse. The next day, I had brought an extra shirt, but you wouldn’t guess. I bumped into Ms. Gray, and she tipped her espresso all over me. I tried finding my shirt, but it turned out that I had left it in my Gym locker, and if I went back to retrieve it, I would be tardy and get detention. And the results? Dave Wilson never talked to me again.
Sometimes, my dreams are good. Mostly, I mean. But if it’s a nightmare, it’s really hard to avoid it. But I try. In vain.
So anyways, that night, as I slept-still so happy about how perfect a birthday I had had-I was ready to have another great dream. But little did I know that this one was the wrost nightmare of all. And it was definitely coming true.
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