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On this day

“Hey, there’s my little girl, come over here”, I heard the voice of my dad. It was totally dark and so I was not able to see anything. I only heard his voice calling me. After awhile I saw a little light – far from me. Slowly I moved in his direction. The voice of my dad becomes louder.

“Alisha, here I am, come here.” he said. The closer I got, the more clearly I recognized the silhouette of my father. He was crouched on the floor with his arms wide open to catch me. He kept calling me. I tried to run faster. But no matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t reach him. Suddenly I couldn’t see him anymore. He was gone. I woke up drenched in sweat and tears.

It was only a nightmare you’ll say. It wasn’t just “a” nightmare I’ll say. It was “the” nightmare. January, 28th. The first night. January, 29th. The second night. January, 30th. The third night. January, 31st. The last night. The same dream. Four nights. Every year at the same time. Since I was seven years old. Every year.

It ended the day my youngest son was born. So I’m liberated from this case for the last nine years. I was afraid to sleep these four days. Since my dad died my world was not longer the same. He took a piece of me as he passed. And this piece of me has still not been found.