Tell me...Who are you?

Emily woke up for the fourth time this week in the middle of the night with the same nightmare haunting her dreams. No matter what she tried to do, the horrible scenes would not leave her at peace and would wake her with the worst sense of dread and the feeling of nothingness. Her eyes would snap open, her heart beat would be at an exceedingly high rate, her breathing heavy and ragged and her mind spinning restlessly into oblivion.

Her recurring dream, to use the word loosely, would start off as a regular dream would; well, at least how a normal happy dream would start off. In her mind the scene would open with herself sitting outside on a warm spring day, under the warm sky with nothing but the smell of fresh mowed grass, the sound of the river trickling by hidden somewhere behind the brush and the sound of the light breeze whistling through the giant oak she sat under. In her hand would be a book, always changing each night for she was an avid reader and she always had her hands on something different. Emily would read on for a bit and then would look up from her entrapment in the story for she would hear an all too familiar sound that always warmed her heart. Without needing to look too far ahead or in the accurate location, she would know that it was her best friend in the entire world, the boy that would always be there for her; Dylan.

Dylan would walk through the arrangement of trees and bushes in the park that she always occupied. He would walk towards her with the gait of a man who knows who he is and where he is going with his life, the aura of someone with great power that if unleashed could bring down even the strongest of men, the appearance of magnificent masculine beauty and perfection, and the heart of the purest soul ever to walk the Earth. He was her saving grace, her one solid rock and place in this world. Without him, she would have nothing to hold on to. They were not what people would call a 'couple'. No, they were so much more than that. What they shared, their deep connection to one another that surpassed any and all levels or recognition was beyond what anyone could ever dream of acquiring with a special someone. It was the best feeling in the world, for both of them.

He walked up to her, as she was sitting under her oak tree, stood in front of her casting his shadow unto her and creating a painting behind her and just stared at her. She looked up at him after a while for he had not uttered a single word to her yet. She found this odd because he would always have something to say to her and she felt slightly self conscious for he was pure beauty and she mediocre and he was just staring at her. When Emily looked up to see Dylan's face she knew immediately that something was not right. His face, the strain of his lips from frowning, his eyebrows slightly indented so as to try not to look like he's holding his tongue back from something, told her that something was seriously wrong. Her stomach did a few cartwheels, jumped through a couple rings of fire and then plunged deep into the abyss that was her fear and paranoia. Before she could utter a word, Dylan spoke up and what he said to her stopped the frantic beating of her heart for three seconds.

"Who are you?" he uttered.

Emily couldn't speak. She was too dumbstruck to put together a single word. All she could do was stare, gape and sputter sounds. Finally, after a long period of verbal nonsense, she answered back with "Excuse me?"

"I said, Who are you? I don't know why I'm here, under this oak tree, in this park, standing in front ofyou."

"And what exactly is wrong with me?"

"I don't know. Am I supposed to know you or something? Are you my girlfriend?"

"Yes, you're supposed to know me. And no, I'm not your girlfriend. I am so much more than that."

"Am I married? Are you my wife? I'm too young to be married. I don't have a kid with you do I?"

Emily wanted to slap him! She couldn't tell if he was pulling her leg just to mess with her a d play a sick game of twenty questions to gleam information from her or if this was really real. She refrained, although it was really hard to keep her temper in check but she reigned it in; for now and answered with a calm she didn't feel. "No, you're not married. No, I'm not your wife. And no, you don't have a kid with me! Dylan, what's going on? Why are you acting this way?"

"How do you know my name? Honestly, who are you?"

"You're kidding right?! I know you because you're my best friend, and I yours. We're each other's confidant. The one and only go-to person that knows everything about the other. What's gotten into you?"

"Okay seriously, you're starting to creep me out. Why are you talking to me like were all buddy buddy?"

Oh my gosh!!! He was seriously lacking in brains right now. Her anger was mounting, and it was her only vice to keep her fear from rising and eating her alive. "Have you not heard a single thing I've said?"

Dylan looked at her at that comment, really looked at her like he was trying to see behind her eyes and into her soul. Emily felt like she was finally getting somewhere for she knew that look. Knew it very well. But her hoped were crushed all too soon. He gave her one last, long penetrating stare and then said "Ya, you're definitely not someone I could see myself being friend with" and walked away.

That was the lowest blow that Emily had ever received from anyone in her entire lifetime. With one sentence, Dylan had ripped out her heart, stomped on it, lit it on fire, threw it to the dogs to chew on and walked away like he didn't have a care in the world. On tear fell down her cheek, and that tear was all she needed to let outwardly show her despair and pain, while inside, inside she died the minute that tear fell. She was no one. She was nothing. The world around her was a lie. She could feel the safety of her oak tree receding, the song of the wind in the leaves turning into chaos and noise and everything around her turning to ash. She could see and feel the world dying around her, turning gray, then black. Once the world turned black, she would wake up to find herself staring at her ceiling, breathing heavy, heart sputtering like the wings of a hummingbird, tears flowing out the sides of her eyes and onto her pillow as she clutched her sheets to keep from screaming and to somehow alleviate the pain.

Seven nights. She was being tortured for seven nights now and she didn't have a single clue as to why. Emily knew she had to do something. During the daylight hours, here in the real world, she would see Dylan everyday and it would be like every other day. Dylan knew who she was and what they shared. In the real world, he was her Dylan. Her best friend. The boy that she meant those few months ago. He wasn't the dream Dylan, the one who killed her. So she knew it was all a dream, but she couldn't help but wonder if it was a sign to something else. It had occurred for the past seven nights in a row without a single detail missing or out of place. Emily just couldn't help but wonder.

As she sat there in her bed, tears running down her face coating her pillow in sorrow and fear, clutching the sheets like a passenger lost at see holding onto a life preserver to stay afloat, staring at the dark ceiling, Emily realized what she needed to do. She got up and out of bed, wiped her face and went to her desk. She sat down, got out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote down the one thing that she would always keep to remind herself that she didn't need someone else to know who she was in order for her to live on. So long as she knew who and what she was, she would never die. Her pen hit the paper and she wrote this poem that would live on forever:

I am a friend

I am an old soul

I am a stubborn mule

I am my father's daughter

I am my mother's flesh and blood

I am someone's wonder

I am what most called weird

I am what some find intriguing

I am my wolf's leader

I am a girl with hidden interests

I am an artist

I am a musician

I am a writer

I am a reader

I am a woman with a strong heart

I am a girl with a free spirit

I am courageous

I am cautious, at times

I am adventurous

I am unorganized

I am the one who you call when something is wrong

I am the one who listens when no one else will

I am one of a kind

I am not a word

I am not a thing

I am me

I am Emily

The next night, and the night after that, and the night after that, and for the rest of her nights, Emily slept in peace; from her mind, from her fears.