The beginning.

Have you ever woken up from a bad nightmare and felt as though you'd died? Or have you seen such terrors that you couldn't believe your own imagination could come up with such atrocities? Well mine, they're so much more than that. My name is Alysandra; I'm 17 years old, and anything I see in my dreams becomes a horrible reality.

My mom used to tell me that dreams were nothing but figments of my imagination. That they were just little scraps of memory mixed with lots and lots of creativity. But since a young age I've come to deem that a false statement. Because for as long as I can remember now; every dream is just an eventuality.

At the age of seven I started having extreme night terrors after the loss of my mother, father, and 2 sisters. Only myself and my brother survived. Relatives all tell different tales of what caused my family to meet its fate; but when I look up at my brother Dillon I know that they are anything but factual accounts. He was 16 when the "accident" occurred and was the only person who would refuse to tell me what happened to our family. And he's the only person I wish would actually tell me.

We grew up in a mansion not too far from England, a dream house that every family wished for on every shining star they could find. Each of us had our own room though I would always end up in my youngest sisters room during the day and in my parents bed at night. My room was seldom ever used and even I had no interest in it. The mansion was old but not dilapidated, and it fit our large family comfortably. But there was something about my room; something that nobody could quite place. The maids would whisper of it being haunted and the guards would talk of it being cursed but as luck would have it, it was not. The room was a normal room. Nothing bizarre about it; accept its occupant.