I woke up with a start. The visions that haunted my dreams still there, the images that went around my brain. Again, and again, and again. I can't stop it. I wish I could but I can't. The pictures I see just going round and around and around and around and around and I-I scream. I cry. I bury my head in my hands and sob. Sobbing and sobbing, screams and shouts that haunt my dreams. The images of people dying before my eyes, animals falling to the ground, blood soaked coats and fear in their eyes. Then people all around them, and they just drop to the ground. One by one they die, just falling to the ground and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I am just in the middle, watching them. I try to stop it and I can't and it hurts. All I can do is watch them. Watch them die, slowly, graphically. Those are the screams that wake me, the screams of them, the ones in my dreams...
It always happens and I don't know how to stop it, as much as I may want to I can't! The pain just goes on and on and on and on until I can no longer breath, no longer see straight, no longer feel the blood rushing through my body, my brain clicks like clock work. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Bang.
And it stops as I wake up, but that's not the point, that's not what I mean! I mean, I think... I think the screams are of something yet to come, because every so often in those dreams... I saw odd men. Men with pale skin and long hair, whips in their hands and smirks playing on their faces. Mean and spiteful creatures who look as if they could kill you with one glance. Some of them carry chains. Big metal chains and metal circles for peoples necks. Shackles and sticks, long bamboo type sticks. It scares me. It scared me, Scared me half to death and I couldn't do anything. Except will myself to wake up from this horror, this pain and suffering that I couldn't take in my mind much longer without endless pain.
When I told people about my dreams, they just laughed it off, put it down to a 'wild imagination' they said. A wild imagination... But they didn't know that I was right, that someone was coming for us, someone with pale skin and a smirk playing on their face. Men with long hair and metal loops for peoples necks and shackles for wrists and feet. Mean and spiteful men with whips in their hands and long sticks that looked like bamboo. They were coming for us. They wanted us. But no one believed me when I told them! they just shook me off as a stupid little girl with a 'Wild Imagination'. I bet they didn't count on this little girl knowing what was going to happen to them, I bet they didn't count that these little girls dreams were, maybe, to become a reality.
The fact is they didn't care. I was just a girl. A girl means nothing to them, nothing at all. The boys become the men, the warriors they want and care for, not us. We just cook, clean and give birth to boys. As our 'duty'.
It sickens me that that is all we are for! why can't girls be fighters! And the last time I asked that one, a lot of bad things came about I must admit. My father and my mother were both ashamed at me for even asking the question... But they didn't know that the pale faced, long haired men with smirks playing on their faces, whips in their hands and shackles for peoples hands and feet, the long sticks that look like bamboo in their hands. The way that their eyes fall upon you like you are prey for the birds, not human. Not worth a second glance. It breaks you. It makes you feel like if you died then no one would care and no one would need to care because you were gone, dead to humanity. Silence. The deafening silence as those odd men came closer and closer and closer and closer and all you can think of is to run but your legs won't move and you're feet are planted into the ground and there is nothing you can do about it and you feel helpless and-
I scream, waking up in a pool of my own sweat, again, and I scream. I wake my mother and father and I can't stop screaming and crying and sobbing. The sobbing which can carry on for hours, my head in my hands as I cry. I just cry. I'm lost. These dreams that haunt me every night, no meaning towards them, just me and my pain, just me and my tears and my visions which so many people tell me aren't true but I feel as if they would come true, as if one day, my dreams will become reality and there is nothing I can do about it!
The pale skinned men with the whips in their hands and smirks playing on their lips are coming, whether we like it or not. And there is nothing, NOTHING we can do about it.