I sat up, and blindly reached for my dream journal. In it were pages and pages filled with sleepy handwriting, each page depicting a different scene from the night before. They always come to me one way or another, these dreams. Both equally terrifying as they are exciting, I never know where they will take me next. I have seen a girl die, a man get into an accident, and a teenager being bullied. Although I often wake up shaken, I automatically write it down. It has been routine for me ever since this has started to occur. What I see, however, aren't dreams. They're actual occurrences.

I yawned and sat up, looking at the clock. It read 4:45 AM. "Great," I mumbled, and shuffled out of bed. I entered my kitchen and started the coffee maker. There wasn't much of a point in going to bed now, I knew I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. As the coffee was brewing, I looked out the window at the blinking lights of the Chinese food place across the street and listened to the eerie silence of early morning. I mixed my coffee and sat down in front of my laptop. I brought up my blog, and started typing.

 

This time I was running down a street. There were sirens blaring. Not police sirens, more like those you would hear in a prison.

All of the lights in the courtyard were blaring, and I was trying to stay in the shadows. There was a woman. She was there with

me. Look left, look right. Behind us, the guards were catching up, and there were a few with dogs. "The fence," she had

mumbled, "I have to make it to the fence."


Before I knew it we were taking off, turning corners and sprinting down the alleys between buildings. Then I saw it. A 40-foot-high

fence, with barbed wire and lights. This woman, with her orange jumpsuit and even brighter hair, started to scale this massive

fence. Bullets started to fly, and there were police dogs barking from below. We had made it to the top. She smiled, and made it

halfway down the other side before she jumped. She then looked at me. "Thank you." The dream stopped.

I saved my post. What did this mean? Why could she see me?