It happened again. Like all the previous nights.
Her forehead — covered in a thin layer of sweat —, her wide eyes and ragged breathing were proof of that.
How was it possible to fall asleep if the only thing that existed in her head was the vivid memory of that nightmare?
She experienced it so real, so true, that she was afraid to think that what was happening inside her head was —without a doubt— life itself.
She woke up in time for her luck — for her unfortunate luck — realizing that she was wrong. It was just one more nightmare. And yet the terror was still inside her, sending slight chills down her spine.
«Where are you, Mom?», thought the little girl. «Can you hear me? Can you protect me?»
Slight spasms —due to crying— began to be heard from the room of the little girl, Elena. A nightly martyrdom symbolized those bad dreams that scared her too much when she woke up.
We all know that nightmares are not true, they would never harm us that exceeds the physical barrier, however, —be it fate or the unfortunate luck— one day what we fear most could happen: to experience in the flesh what we lifts us up at night
[...]
—Mom, Can I sleep with you?
—What is happened, Elena?
—I had a nightmare. Again.
[...]
Note: This is the story of Elena Miller.