My Nightmare

For a moment, everything looks familiar. I’m sitting in the back seat of the van my parents had when I was a kid. My dad is sitting in the driver’s seat, and we’re driving over the bridge that crosses the river that borders my hometown. I know this road like the back of my hand. Growing up, we crossed this bridge both ways at least twice a week.

When I turn around, I should see the town behind me. So, I turn, and I do. But it’s not as I know it should be.

It’s on fire.

I can barely make out the buildings in the flames. The wall of fire seems impossibly high, and it’s getting closer.

“DAD!” I scream.

He looks in the rearview mirror at me and then back at the road. We are at a standstill. The cars in front of us aren’t moving, and both lanes of traffic are blocked. There is nowhere to go.

The flames roar behind us, engulfing everything in their path. In almost no time at all, the fire is right behind us.

And I wake up.