I think it was November when the nightmares first started. Yeah, definitely before Thanksgiving. In the beginning it was no big deal. Everybody has bad dreams. You wake up screaming in your head, you think it's real for like five seconds, then you snap out of it and get on with your life. By the time you finish breakfast, you can't even remember what scared you awake.
But I do remember. Because this dream was different. It didn't go away. It came back again and again. And every time it got weirder. At first, it was just plain silly. I mean, who'd be afraid of a letter of the alphabet? Ridiculous, right? Wrong.
This was a monster letter. A killer D. It approached me from a distance, looking so small and innocent. Like Mom's antique typewriter striking at its limp ribbon. When the D got closer, it grew thick and heavy and picked up speed, racing toward me. It was on fire. When it lunged at my face, I'd be jolted into wakefulness. Sometimes my cheeks would burn. I've even smelled smoke and that's a smell that stays in your nose all day. It won't let you forget. I was afraid to go to bed. But I didn't tell anybody why I looked so tired. Nightmares are kid stuff and I'm no kid. Finally I broke my silence and chose Kaitlin as my confidant. Okay, maybe that was a mistake, but so far so good. She's three years older than me and if you're looking for advice on mental health, who better to ask than a sixteen-year old girl. She's had every mental problem in the book. Hey, she probably wrote the book.
She gave me this journal so I could write down my thoughts. Her English teacher says journaling is the best way to see what's really on your mind. Of course, Kaitlin diagnosed my problem immediately.
"Sean," she said, "It's obvious. What does the letter D mean? It means if Mom and Dad see one on your report card, no way they'll send you to Willow Hill next year. No private arts school for you. No music major, no rehearsal halls. Naturally, you're being attacked by failing grades."
Kaitlin is reasonably smart for a sister, high honors every term. Her explanation seemed logical. We both believed it - for a while.
I started to read up on dreams, what they mean. One website had a dream dictionary, but the letter D wasn't listed as a topic, just an alphabetical heading. Another site claimed that welcoming a fearful dream image gives the dreamer control. After all, I am inventing this dream.
I may as well take control of it. So I decided to let those flaming D's come at me from every angle. I dared them to hit me, to burn me. I refused to be afraid of a letter.
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