Foretelling Dreams

I can remember things early on in my life, things my mother still claims there is no way I should I was so young. It might have been because I was a very observant child, or maybe it was because of the things that happened to me that stood out and embedded themselves in my mind. Things, that to this day stick out in my mind as if they happened yesterday, when they happened 23 years ago.

We lived with my grandmother when I was young, then an apartment, then back with my grandmother, then to a house an hour away in a town by the Mississippi river. It was a ways away from the flood zone but the basement’s sub pump refused to work properly so the basement would flood on a regular basis. I was six when we moved to that house and the only thing that ever made me feel off about the place were the old attic access doors in my rooms that lead to these dark area’s. I had always felt if I went in I would never be able to get out again, it scared me deeply, so I would never open them.

I was seven when I started getting these dreams that never made much sense to me, of places i’d never been, things that hadn’t happened yet and things that I couldn’t have possibly known had happened. At this point, I couldn’t talk to my mother about these things, and when I would go out to my dads I would have other experiences that he wouldn’t tolerate me talking about, so for a long time I kept all this to myself.

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