It was a dream. It was all just a dream. A very screwed up, emotionally damaging, horrible dream. Ava’s breath caught in her throat. Her dark hair hung in waves below her shoulders. Somehow she had flung herself up into a sitting position. Her breathing was labored as if she had really just been running for her life. She could feel the hysteria bubbling from her gut. The dream had been vivid. She looked down at her knee, remembering that she had fallen in the damn nightmare, and saw that it was bruised, but she dismissed the injury. She worked at a bar, and she always had unexplainable cuts and bruises.Slowly, she climbed out of the queen-size bed she loved. It was warm, and a pillow top, but no matter the comfort level it could not keep her nightmares at bay. They were getting to be more and more frequent. Ava opened the nightstand beside her bed, took out the leather bound journal and matching pen then started towards the kitchen. She needed tea.When she turned the light on, the soft hum in the background drew her attention. She hated dead silence. Silence reminded her of the nightmares. She filled the antique kettle her uncle valued. He had told her many stories over tea. He loved to talk about her mother, his youngest sister. She was the most vibrant of them all. She had big plans in life, but had died much too young. That is why Ava intended on living her mother’s dreams for her, but her uncle did not think it was the best idea and constantly tried to dissuade her from the idea. She began to write in her journal. Her pen flew over the paper as she wrote out every detail of her nightmare. She wanted to remember this one along with many others. It seemed as if they were happening frequently.