Until the Moon Burns

I had the strangest dream.
I was with my grandmother, Elizabeth again. She had the same fiery red, curly short hair she had always had, though she looked a little thinner. Nan had struggled with her weight for ages. She was standing, looking at me in a sad, reluctant way. Before I could speak, she shook her head.
“Oh, my lamb!” She sighed, happily, walking toward me, her arms out, as if to hug me. I smiled at her pet name for me, and began walking toward her, but then she stopped abruptly, screaming, staring at her hands.
“Nan? Nan, what’s happening?” I panicked as she stared, screaming, yelling things I could not understand.
Her skin started to flake and drop off, first in small, dandruff-like pieces, then in larger and larger and larger pieces, great hunks of flesh falling off her body, revealing the muscles, tendons, ligaments beneath them.
She was still walking forward, even as she fell apart in front of me. I retched-the air stank of death and rotting meat. She was still screaming, and then I realized she was screaming my name.
“AUDREY! LOOK BEHIND YOU!”
I was about to turn around, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Nan, decaying in front of me. I was frozen in place, unable to move, to even breathe, though the memory of the stench seemed burned into me.
Her left eyeball had fallen out-it now rolled towards me. She was retching, choking, coughing up blood, and I had never realised how much blood there was in a person.
I started crying, screaming, remembering we had the same eyes and checking my own were still where they were meant to be. I saw myself reflected in her black pupils, frantic, my mouth open in a silent scream, my flesh rapidly turning black...
She was still shouting at me.
“Audrey! Audrey! AUDREY!”
I felt myself being shaken, and then I woke up.
I could still see my grandmother’s face in my mind’s eye.
I saw the face of my grandmother, who had been dead for a year.
I wiped my eyes, finding tears there.
“Bad dream? You were screaming.”
I was on a black leather sofa that I didn’t recognize.
“Where am I?” I asked, and I was surprised to find my voice raspy and my throat sore. I must have been screaming pretty loud, I thought.

“We’re here, honey. Told you it was furbished. And you didn’t believe me!” She laughed, patting my aching head a little too hard for my liking and flouncing into the kitchen.
I winced, sitting up slowly, carefully, rubbing my head.
“Just a dream. Don’t get freaked out, it’s because you miss her,” I told myself.