This was a dream I had where I woke up completely relieved, because what happened inside that dream was too terrible for me to accept.

We were at home. My family and I. Everything seemed normal, like another day in the life of me. I was in my bedroom, searching my floor-to-ceiling wardrobe for something to wear when I drew back some clothing and found a bloody plastic bag. But it wasn't really a bag, it was a long sheet of plastic, and something was wrapped up inside.

Blood was pooling at the bottom of the plastic wrap, there were splatters of it smeared on the inside all over the place. There was so much blood. So much.

The something that was wrapped up inside the plastic wrap was a girl, blonde and young, and she was dead. My family came to my aid when I screamed in horror, I couldn't believe there was a dead girl hidden in my wardrobe.

My mother, who seemed calm, had nurse training, and for some reason my brain thought that this meant she could tell how long someone had been dead for. After she examined the body carefully, my mother declared that the girl was killed on January the third. I don't know why my brain thought of January 3rd, there is nothing significant about that date in my real life. But the fact that my dreamed up mother came up with a very specific date... I'm still left questioning it. I didn't know dreams could be so detailed.

I was frightened, an overwhelming sense and fear that I could have been the one to murder this girl, even though I had no memory of doing it. For some reason though, I still thought it possible, because she was in my room; in my wardrobe. Maybe I forgot, maybe my brain was so traumatised that I suppressed the memory of killing her. Maybe I had a psychotic episode where I was no longer in control of myself or my actions, and I violently lashed out at the first person who crossed my path. I mean, this girl's face was not recognisable, I had no idea who she was.

I began to frantically search my diaries and calendars, electronically and not, to find some sort of clue or alibi for January 3rd, because I could not remember, and if I could not remember that day, then maybe I had blacked out just like I thought. I searched through everything, and every time it came up absolutely blank. I had no plans written or typed down for January 3rd, I had come up with nothing.

I did not have an alibi.

I felt guilt overcome me, and panic. I would have to tell them I did it. I would have to report myself to the police, own up to this murder. Murder. Me, commit murder? It was outrageous, nauseating, I couldn't stomach this information no matter how hard I tried. I could never accept this. I could never-

I woke up before I could find out any real answers, and as I said earlier, I woke up and was completely relieved that it was only a dream.

Only a dream.