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N is for nightmares. We all have them. Especially the main character in the novel I am writing. We dream as we sleep, and some of our dreams become nightmares and can terrify us even as we sleep. Sophie has a lot of dreams and nightmares about her father, now that he is in Afghanistan, fighting as a soldier. She misses him a lot and worries about his safety. Here is one of the nightmares she has about her father the night he ends up being killed.

Bang, Bang, Bang! I’m in a small, crowded room. But when I look down at my hands, they are not mine. I know them so well. They are dirtier and more wrinkled than the last time I saw them, but definitely his. My heart leaps. They are my father’s hands.

I look around. At the front of the room, there is a long, scratched, wooden table. People are crowded around the table, all trying to see what is on the surface. They all look up in surprise when they hear the banging. Then, they all leap into action at the exact same moment. One person jumps, and runs out the other way, out a door that I can’t see. The main door bursts open, and three soldiers come in. I can see more soldiers behind them. Shots ring through the air.

There are people everywhere, crying out in pain, falling to the ground. Someone walks into the room. He is tall, with a moustache. He yells, “WE ARE UNDER ATTACK, EVACUATE!” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, people are pushing and shoving, running towards the exit. More shots are fired, and there are more screams. There is blood everywhere. I run and run towards the exit, but no matter how fast I’m running, it never come closer. People pour out of side tunnels, and race past me. More shots ring out. The person behind me crumples to the ground. I recognize him. He is the man who told us to evacuate. I somehow know that he is in charge. I spin around; hoist the man over my shoulder, and continued running. After a while, my calves are burning, and I need to stop. The man weighs a lot, and I’m tiring quickly. Just as I decide to give up, the door appears in front of me. I leap through the door. I place the man in someone’s arms, telling them to take him to the hospital. They look at me funny, but then complete the task I give them. I sink up against the wall. Let them kill me, I think.

My limbs burn, I’m starving, I haven’t slept in days. I have lice, and many bug bites. I miss my family so much, it hurts. I want to go home, to be away from here. But I have a duty. No matter how bad I feel, no matter how much I don’t want to be here, I need to go and do my job: to stand up and protect people who can’t protect themselves. And that is exactly what I’m going to do. I stand up, ignoring the sharp, shooting pain in my head, and slowly make my way down the cramped, closed tunnels. I find my way into a tiny room. It is dimly lit. There are two soldiers. One is standing by the door. One is loading a shotgun. Something is wrong. I start towards the door, but before I can reach it, the soldier standing there slams it shut. I turn around, trying to make my voice not shake and say, “What do you want?” He looks me straight in the eye and says in a surprisingly calm and clear voice, “Goodbye John. I’m sorry.” Then a shot rings out, and I’m falling.

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What do you think about Sophie's nightmare? If you have any suggestions, please post them in a comment.

Life Lesson: Nightmares can be very powerful and scary, but sometimes our nightmares are trying to tell us something. Listen.