An Angel's Whisper

Samoset, FL
Catalina
A blood moon winked down at me, and the stars danced around it as if the universe were moving for the moon itself. Suddenly, my feet felt hot, and the soft cushion of grass transformed into stone as I swiftly slid down the side of a long cliff.
My hands flailed, desperately trying to grab anything that could hold my weight. Whispers filled the space beneath me. Glancing down, I noticed a lake of some sort, but as my eyes adjusted, it wasn’t a lake at all. Flames danced across the surface, summoning my touch. My body had no choice as I slipped into the liquid fire and screams uncontrollably erupted from my mouth.
Consumed by the blaze, scorching heat seared into my soul as if the sun itself was devouring me. My nails chipped as I clawed the rocky cliff, blood dripping down my arms. More than anything, I wanted to stop the pain. My heart raced with panic as spots danced before my eyes, and my breath came in gasps. The once echoing whispers were now screams of agony.
Frantic bodies surrounded me—people trampling each other to hoist themselves from the flames. A large hand shoved my head as he, too, tried to grab the cliff’s edge. Realizing I was trapped beneath the lake, I thrashed and kicked, but my attempts to move up were in vain. Finally, the man lost his grip, and I gasped for air once again.
I made myself as flat as possible, though the heat was too much to bear, and my screams quieted into silent breaths. I felt my body move back and forth as the dream’s hold slipped from my grasp. When the heat dissipated, relief slowly washed over me.
***
I was only seven when I had my first nightmare. That’s when I realized I was unlike anyone else. It was Samantha’s annual birthday sleepover, and my mother reluctantly agreed to let me attend.
Did she know this was going to happen? How could she, though?
I had escaped outside to avoid the looks of my friends. Only Samantha was brave enough to inch her way toward me. Silently, she plopped down on the wet grass and took my hand. Breathing deeply, I lay on the ground, staring at the vast night sky, wishing I could be lost in the stars. As my skin cooled, I took another deep breath to calm my nerves, inhaling the smell of wet grass. The evening dew seeped into my nightgown, but I didn’t mind. The chirping crickets and rustling trees were almost loud enough to expunge the horrible screams from my memories.
I heard Samantha’s mother on the phone through the open glass door.
“I think you need to come get her. She was screaming like she was on fire, and her skin was burning hot. She must have a terrible fever. Honestly, she scared the hell out of the whole house. I couldn’t get her to wake up for the longest time… uh-huh… yes… she’s outside now, lying on the ground… okay, I will.”
I didn’t move from my spot of refuge ‘til my mother came and scooped me up.
That was my first and last sleepover. Mother and I never spoke of that night. There were no doctor appointments or psychiatrists—no questions to discover why I was plagued with these graphic nightmares. Her lack of interest left me no choice. I had to push the entire event aside.
At twenty-two, I still had no idea why I was different from others—why no one else woke from dreams with heat coursing through their veins, burning them from the inside out.