When I was little in kindergarten during playtime, I would always go to the Lego box. There were Lego policeman that we would all fight over. The teacher would get mad at me, and she would give me a time out. I would watch everyone play while I sat there. I almost never got to play with the Legos. Then the night terrors started.
               I’m in a fancy room with a bear rug on top of it a nice polished coffee table behind it there was a fireplace with a crackling fire next to a couch and at the end there was a window. The fire lit the room with a flickering, glowing, dim yellow that set off an ominous vibe. At the window, you could hear the wind howl as it pushed by. It had big silky curtains, the kind you would push half to each side and tie in the middle. The sofa would always have a different person in it. Sometimes it was my father, sometimes it was my uncle Chavo, or sometimes a random familiar person. I would be sitting on their lap and they’d be reading me a story. When I was little, I always wanted my father to read me a bedtime story but it never happened. In the nightmare, I always start out looking at myself through the fancy window with the silky fancy curtains. I seemed to be happy listening intently at the bedtime story until the view changes to my own eyes and that’s when the terror starts.
Unexplainable fear comes to me like that feeling you know something is terribly wrong but you don’t know what. It pushes me into the depths of panic. My reader’s voice is muffled and becomes background noise. All I could hear is loudness of silence. It was as if a bomb went off and you’re left disoriented and confused with a ring in your years. I feel something terrible coming something dangerous. I start to tremble. I sweat. My heartbeat rises. I could even feel myself shift and shake as I sleep. I am confused. I didn’t know where the source to my feelings was. My fear wouldn’t stop I wanted it to stop. I felt hopeless like I knew I was going to die, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Suddenly my reader stops reading. He looks up eyes wide and stares at the window. I can tell there is fear in his eyes. He seemed to know what is about to happen.
“Someone is coming” he said.
“What who?” I replied.
“I don’t,” he paused as his eyes scanned the room, “know.”
I started crying. “I’m scared” I sobbed.
“Edgar you need to go.” He said frantically. “Go now!” he exclaimed.
“I can’t,” my voice faded, move. What’s going on! I yelled but my voice wouldn’t come out.
Two adult size Lego police men creep up on the window holding Christmas presents. I could feel a dark radiation coming from them sucking in the light like a black hole. Death seemed to follow their every step. Their stiff gazes slowly shift toward us smiling innocently but knowing their own evil. They notice us and wave, our bodies stiffen, we freeze in fear. I can feel a murderous intent. Their smile and presents are a fake to fool us, take us, and torture us. They get impatient because we won’t open the door. Their pale yellow hands magically go through the window without shattering it. They somehow get to open it. At this moment, I wake up and the dream is over. But it’s not the last time I’ll have it.
Maybe this dream means I was afraid of cops or that someone is going to steal my Christmas presents. Maybe I just really wanted someone to read me bedtime stories. Or it is just mumbo jumbo clustered together into a dream that I would constantly have. The dream stopped now but the memory stays what does it mean? I don’t know. That’s my only answer.