The Eight - Part Four: A Midwinter Night’s Dream

I can hear my sister scream. She is screaming and screaming somewhere I can’t see.
Her voice seems to surround me, I have no idea where it comes from. Still, I try to look for her. I’m telling my right foot to move forward, but it doesn’t obey me. Maybe I don’t even have a right foot anymore. I don’t know. I can’t look down, up or sideways. And suddenly the screams stop and there’s a pool of blood in the floor far ahead in front of me.
And then I wake up.
It’s the fourth time I have this dream. It comes every Monday night (actually it’s already Tuesday) and when I wake up (every time the blood appears) it’s always 4h12 am. I don’t even have to look at the clock anymore.
I wake up shaking and sweating and crying. And hungry. So I get up, drink a cup of milk and take a short shower that also helps me relax. Then I go to bed and sleep peacefully until me alarm wakes me up.
You probably wonder why I don’t stay up until it’s past 4h12. Well, I tried it once. When my usual bedtime arrived (around 11h pm), I was really sleepy. I tried to fight it by staying in the living room watching television while my parents and little sister went to sleep. So when it was 4h12 I woke up in the sofa. I hadn’t even realized I had fallen asleep.

The weirdest thing about this dream isn’t the exact frequency of it. It’s the dream itself. It’s just too real. It doesn’t feel like a dream at all. Not even like a thought. To me it’s like watching a movie, because of my incapacity to move.
I wish I knew what it meant.

My parents always tried to look like they knew a lot of culture but were also a bit interested in “the dark side” of History. So they gave us the names of two of the most evil Egyptian gods: I am Seth, the god of destruction and violence, the one who killed Osiris; and my poor sister is Sekhmet, the goddess of war and vengeance.
Probably they had no idea how well the name suited me.

Today’s the morning after the dream and I’m not in a good mood. And everyone knows what I can do when I’m in a bad mood. I can’t even control it.
I can’t stop thinking about how much I hate my mother while I’m having breakfast with my family. She doesn’t stop complaining for a minute: it’s all my sister’s and my fault. What, I have no idea, because I’m ignoring her; but it is surely our fault.
Me and my sister walk to school. It’s winter and it’s cold, but it is a short walk. We talk. I’m still in a bad mood, but I try to ignore it. She doesn’t.
‘Come on, Seth. I know you. Why are you always moody on Tuesday morning?’
‘I’m not moody. I just didn’t sleep very well.’
‘That’s the same excuse you gave last week and the week before that.’
‘It’s not an excuse. Sometimes I don’t sleep too well. That’s it.’
‘Yeah, whatever.’
My sister is thirteen. And smart as fuck.

We arrive school and we’re late. I hate being late. It drives me mad. So I’m really pissed off when I knock on and open my classroom’s door.
Too pissed off.
The trash can in front of me flies until it hits the wall. And Mrs. Thomson’s shirt is violently unbuttoned and thrown back, revealing a black bra maybe a bit too sexy for the occasion.
I bury my face in my hands and I’m thinking, ‘fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck---‘, when I hear it.
Sekhmet. Screaming.
And I run.

She was having P. E.. Or Phys Ed or whatever you call it. Physical Education. The gym is really near the entrance so she got there pretty fast. She started running. And she fainted. They tried to wake her up, she didn’t react to anything. They called an ambulance. She was unconscious for about two minutes; then she woke up. Screaming.
When I arrive there they are all around her, trying to calm her down and she’s saying, ‘There was a man and she had a knife but I don’t think she had a head, I mean, he had a voice and a body but it was too dark and I couldn’t see the head and the voice just came from everywhere but I knew it was his and it was so real, so real and he s---‘
‘It was all just a bad dream,’ her teacher interrupts, ‘don’t worry. The ambulance is coming.’ She looks at my sister’s chest and her face becomes a mask of horror. Everyone’s does. But my sister doesn’t notice it. Her eyes are closed. She has no idea that there is a growing stain of blood on her chest.
I run and kneel next to her. I kiss her forehead and she opens her eyes. ‘Seth,’ she whispers, ‘my chest. It hurts. Why?’
I tell her not to worry. I tell her everything’s alright.

The ambulance arrives and I go to the hospital with my little sister.
I wish there was anyone from The Eight at school at that hour, nut the all only have classes later.

Right now, I’m in the waiting room of the hospital, missing our meeting. I thought about texting them before it started, but I had left my mobile phone at home.
According to a doctor, my sister is going to be alright. Her wound, he says, was probably provoked by a stabbing. It is deep enough to damage the heart; but on the wrong side. He asks me what could have stabbed her and I tell him I don’t know.
My parents are here. According to my mother, it’s all my fault.

I know who stabbed my sister. A man from a dream. I don’t know how. But I’m sure of it. I just hope my dreams end now.
I want to know. I need to know. When, how and why does a dream stop being just a dream and starts being something else? Like reality?
But I know I’ll never get my answer.

Belladonna lives near the hospital. The meeting ended an hour ago, so I’m going to visit her. I can’t stay here. My mother pisses me off.