Running From Nightmares

The dreams were getting worse. I skittered through a department store, ducking behind displays, trying desperately to wake myself up. I had already had some close calls, and I was tiring fast. If I didn't wake up or find an exit soon, I was going to be captured.

There was only one more exit I could try. The loading bay. It was my last shot and I was going to take it. As soon as I thought the coast was clear I bolted for the exit.

They were waiting for me. As I slammed into the exit door, I felt jagged talons dig into the soft skin of my shoulder and yank me back inside.

I shot up in the bed, while a scream ripped from my throat. I grabbed my shoulder and felt hot liquid seep between my fingers.

But, that had been a dream? Hadn't it? How could a dream physically hurt me?

As I examined my shoulder the silence hit me like a freight train. Where was the roar of the traffic on the road? And why hadn't my mother come to see what was wrong? She was too light of a sleeper not to have heard my scream.

Unless I was still dreaming?

I suddenly felt as if I was being dragged through water. With a gasp I broke the surface and knew I was finally awake. Sweat pored off me in rivulets as I tried to catch my breath. I felt as though I really had spent the last six hours running through a store.

I rolled off the bed and dragged myself to the mirror. I pulled the strap of my tank top back to look at my shoulder. There were four whelps raised on my skin where the claw marks had been in my dream.