The woman wasn't sure of where she was going, in fact, she wasnít sure of anything anymore. All she knew was she had to leave. She didnít know just why, but she knew it was important. She had a sense that this idea had come from a dream, but she couldnít remember what she had dreamt that had given her such feeling. All she could remember was waking up in a cold sweat feeling that she was not safe anywhere.
She had had the dream for as long as she could remember, but she had no idea how long that was. During the day it would seem as if the dream were coming back. She would be sitting at her desk, typing a story an she would suddenly feel as if she was being enveloped in blackness. She would fight against it until something brought her back to reality, a phone ringing, a dog barking. Sometimes she would snap right up and continue what she was doing, but other times she felt so drained that she thought she was on the verge of death. There was no sense of time during her struggle, she could be fighting for days against the blackness, the danger and then wake up and continue here she had left off while writing, picking it up in mid-sentence.
The fight was always even, one side never had an advantage over the other, so there could be no end. There were no weapons, it was only the sub-conscious fighting whatever form of peril the blackness represented. She never became weak during her struggle, there was no physical exertion, it was all contained within her mind.
The woman hurried to get out of the house, sensing that this was the source of danger. Just as she was about to reach the door, she slumped over. The blackness came. This time it was different, it seemed darker, more intense. It fought with strength that could not be matched by the woman. She felt herself get weak. She heard the back door open and footsteps heading in her direction, but she didnít snap awake as she always had before. She heard a young womanís voice yell "Mom!" before the blackness attacked again ... and won.