I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming, but the reality is so eerily familiar it sends chills down my spine. The sight of my adoptive parents, long gone from this world, and my childhood home that no longer exists makes it abundantly clear that I'm trapped in a nightmare.
I've endured this torment for weeks before their deaths, but this dream is different. I'm not viewing the scene through my mother's eyes. In fact, I have no idea whose perspective I'm stuck in.
I watch as these unfamiliar eyes scan my childhood home. The late-night silence wraps around us like impending doom. The only sources of light are the dim street lamps and the soft glow of the moon casting long, dark shadows over the house. The person, whoever they are, moves towards the front porch, their stride carrying an unsettlin
