By Kira A. Moore
“What happens if I die while dreaming?” She asked.
“Then the dream never ends.” Her mother replied, kissed her on the cheek, and turned off the light as she went out.
Megan lay there, under the comforting weight of her quilt. The one Grandma had made her for Christmas. She wondered, not or the first time if she still dreamed all these months later.
Then, as had happened of late, she began to worry about something no one ever seemed to talk about. Something her parents, relatives, and friends all shied away from when she brought it up in conversation. The uncomfortable looks, their eyes sliding away from hers, afraid to meet her gaze. The mumbled excuses as they slipped away, leaving her alone with her thoughts and questions.
“What if it was a nightmare?”