25 Days of Writing – Day 24

Day 24: Write, in second person, a dream your character is having. Whether it be a nightmare or something happier, describe the dream in it’s entirety.


It’s dark. You’re soaked to the bone because it’s raining. And you’re lost.

Where were you? How did you get here? It wasn’t raining when last you remembered. It was still cold. It should be snowing. But you’re not shivering, yet. This is a late summer rain.

A familiar smell comes into your nose. You know it. That smell when the lightning lashes out.

Then a brilliant green flash blinds you, driving you to the ground. You flatten yourself, shrinking away from the flash, burying your face in the mud. The flash reminds you of something, but what that is you don’t know. You grip the ground, trying to hold fast, but the mud oozes between your fingers.

The only thing you feel is the rain pelting on your back. You peek over your arm into the darkness.

A fire burns some distance away, and a strange white light shines up into the sky. Something beyond the fire is glowing. Suddenly, a dazzling green fireball erupts, momentarily illuminating towers and wires before you are forced to shut your eyes again in its brilliance. You hide your face again.

You realize you’re crying. You expect to be torn away from the ground and hurtled elsewhere. You dig around with your hands, desperately trying to find something solid to hole onto. There is nothing there but mud.

The rain continues to beat down. You look up again. There is a human figure moving near the fire. A man.

He speaks: “Protect her.”

You get up and walk to him. The glow beyond the fires begins again. You point at it. “Look out!”

Another green fireball alights behind the man. By his silhouette you see he is malformed. You duck and cover your eyes. You examine the burned shadow of his silhouette behind your eyelids. He’s not malformed. He’s injured. Mangled.

You look up again. He still stands there, back-lit by the fires. “Protect her,” he says again.

You rise and stumble toward him. “Who are you?”

“I love her,” he said. “I will miss her.”

“I don’t understand,” you say.

“Love her, please.”


As you’ve gotten closer, you see that his arm is dangling at his side. Ribs jut out of his chest. His leg is bent and broken, yet somehow he still stands.

You can’t see his face. It’s obscured in the darkness. But you are certain he is hideously disfigured.

“I give her to you,” he says.

“Who?” you repeat.

“My Hanna,” he says. “Love her.”

“I do, but—.” Suddenly you understand, as a green fireball lights the sky once more. You fall backwards into the mud. You lay there for a long time, looking up into the rain. It hurts your eyes, so you shut them.

The rain is gone.

A hand strokes your cheek. It is warm. And you are dry.

You try to open your eyes, but the hand covers them. “Sh-sh,” a woman whispers in your ear. You know that shush. You smile.
“I love you, but you can’t see me yet,” she said.

“I want to,” you say.

“No. Not yet, love. Stay. Be at peace. I am at peace.”

“There is peace here,” you say.

“But one who needs you most is there.”

“No. Let me stay.”

“I love you. So does she. Your nation needs you. And her. Together.” The woman was suddenly stern, though she still strokes your hair.

“I have betrayed you.”

“No. You honor me.” She kisses you softly on the mouth. “Go home. I will see thee soon enough.”

You gasp. Coldness floods over your body. And you awake.

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