"How young were you when she passed away?" Yet another in the endless line of questioning this "Doctor" was slinging. We were trying to discover the root of some of my more deep seated "issues". Curiosity and little more drove me to continue with answering, even though my mouth was as dry as sandpaper.

"Younger than twelve. All of my grandparents had passed away by that time, my grandmother on my mothers side was the first to go." While confessing this part of my life story I continued to run my fingers over the skin under my right forearm. A nervous habit that I am quite sure he is planning to pick apart.

" I remember being at her funeral, seeing all of the people. Of course everyone was quite sad. I'll never forget that my mom had told me I had to kiss her goodbye, or I would have nightmares about her. It was an old superstition, but I was superstitious, so I kissed her. Her skin was ice cold, and as hard as stone. It was like something that had come back from a taxidermist." I shuddered and my fingers continued moving on my arm. Strange that it didn't bring any sort of comfort, more like a reminder. "It was about a week later that the nightmare surfaced."

"Could you elaborate on the dream?" Always the nondescript dream, never nightmare. I sighed heavily and put my hands behind my head, leaned back on the leather sofa. No matter how long I sit in that thing it is always cold, and it never fails that I find the most sub arctic spot.

~My mother sister and I all approached a rather large house. Old Victorian style construction, absolutely beautiful. I only appreciate that now being fourteen years older, but it had quite a beauty to it. The door was actually already open, sitting ajar. We entered and looked around, there was a grand wooden stair case along the right wall. The entire house was pitch black except for the hallway that wrapped around the corner at the top of the stairs. Of course, like moths to the flame, never saying a word to each other, we climbed the stairs. It seemed to take only seconds, which is impossible considering how many stairs there were.

When we finally came to the top of the stairs, we wrapped the wall and discovered almost immediately the room with the light pouring out of it. The door was swung open inward, and the room seemed purple at first, but the color quickly became of no consequence. Candles lined the entirety of the room, along the walls, along the set of dressers decorating the tops of them, and in the center of the far wall, yawning its way into the center of the room was the bed. The head board, the foot board were covered in white candles, and there on the right side of the bed, lying on top of the spread was my grandmother. Peaceful, seeming to sleep. I had exclaimed her name and began to run to her side. My mother quickly stopped me by shouting, but before she could get the words out of her mouth, an exotic woman stepped in front of me. Her hair was calm, her features placid and benign. She simply stared at us for a moment, as if she were deciding why we were there.

I began to back away from the advancement I had made toward my formerly deceased grandmother, with dread growing steadily within my heart as to the nature of her arrival. The next few moments seemed to happen in a series of heartbeats. The woman must have smelled my fear, because her previously placid features twisted into a snarl, causing her dark sleepy hair to rise from her bed of skin on her head. Then she screeched at us, screaming in a language that to this day seems impossible to discern. All I noticed was the lighting in the room changed as she continued to chant, and her eyes flashed a glaring orange, like to color of flames. In the blink of an eye her hand came up and slashed down toward me, leaving me barely enough time to guard with my right arm, while backing into the table I hadn't noticed before at the foot of the bed. The table housing a huge candle in the middle of a crystal bowl. I stuck my left hand into the melted wax and received a generous gash upon the underside of my right forearm. Now with wax covering one arm and blood the other, my twelve years failed to serve me how to cope with such terror. This was it, the end, of this I was certain. Supernaturally, fire engulfed the room, leaving my grandmother to her rest, and the door open for me and my already fleeing family. I charged vehemently after them, bursting through the front door just as the house was engulfed in flame. It's all I remember. ~

The doctor was hurriedly writing notes as I came to a close. He seemed as though he was just about to begin with his dissertation of what the root of this dream was, when I stood. He stared intently as I approached, pulling up the sleeve of my shirt, the right sleeve. I gingerly traced the jagged scars on the underside of my arm.

"Some dream eh?" I imagine the look on his face, the terror he reeked of came somewhat from those nightmare scars, however I would lay my life it was mostly from the orange flash within my eyes as he looked into them. I turned on heel, walked toward the door.

"You were right, it felt good to finally tell someone. Getting that off of my chest was...freeing."

He stared intently after me, never noticing the flames that had begun to crawl steadily from the floor to ceiling.