After two more hours of sleep, I woke up hungry and decided to head downstairs. My mom stood in the kitchen, kneading a dough while humming, as she enjoyed making bread. Her light brown hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she was wearing a thick beige colored sweater, a pair of pale olive-green pants and nice warm wooly slippers. She wore her favorite red Christmas apron which was covered in flour. When she heard me, she looked at me with a smile.

“Did you manage to get more sleep?” she asked as she glanced at my hair, her eyebrows raised. I sighed a little as I knew she was looking at my messy morning hair, which I was prone to get. If there was something I had in common with my mom, then it was my light brown hair and my green eyes, but I was tanned just like my dad, though that was the only thing I had in common with them.

“Yeah, I think I got two  more hours of sleep or something,” I said as I went over to her to give her a kiss on the cheek, doing my best to avoid getting any flour on me before I went over to the fridge.

“Good, your dad could use your help today with finding the Christmas decorations,” she said while shaping the dough.

“You mean clean out the garage,” I mumbled as I rolled my eyes, before I went in search for food.

The garage had become a dumping place for everything we owned, as my dad was fixing the basement where we used to store things until we had problems with flooding. Because of the emergency move of our things, our Christmas decorations had ended up being buried under all kinds of stuff, so my dad had been talking about clearing out and sorting our things, and maybe even throwing out some of the things we didn’t need anymore. But because he had work, it seemed the task was now given to me.

I quickly grabbed some cereal and milk from the fridge, before pouring them into a bowl before I went to the dining table to sit down and eat.

When I was done, I dumped the things into the sink and went back up to my room, where I decided to clean up my dirty clothes and put them in the washer, before I cleaned up my drawings and stuffed them into a drawer, which was already overflowing with other drawings. As I was about to closed it, my eyes quickly caught a glimpse of a person I had drawn some time ago. I pulled it out of the drawer and looked at it, but I was unable to remember when I had even dreamt about it. The figure was dressed in black, and I could see it kind of resembled some armor, or some royal garment, but like everything else I hadn’t been able to get a clear idea of how they looked like.

As I looked at the drawing, I felt some strange presence from it, like an aura, almost as if I was looking at a real person and not a drawing, and it was rather unsettling. It was like every nerve in my body was telling me to run, like looking at the picture made my fight or flight response to react. I quickly flipped the paper and placed it face down in the drawer before I closed it. The moment I closed it, the feeling vanished and only a ghost of it still lingered. I quickly left my room and the eerie feeling behind to go down into the garage, where I started to sort out some of the things.

Going through the things proved to be difficult, as I tried to sort out the things in groups of ‘I don’t know what that is’, childhood memories and holiday decorations, and furniture like chairs and shelves. When I went to pick up a box which didn’t have any label on it, the bottom opened and the things inside fell out with a loud clatter as they hit the ground. I cursed as I looked at the different items scattered on the floor; relieved when I noticed nothing had broken. I fixed the box and placed it on the ground and started to pick up the things. It was a mix of children’s books, old baby clothing, a teddy bear (which had seen better days) and figurines made of wood. I placed them all in the box then I went to pick up a plastic binder when a drawing slipped out of it. I picked up the drawing and my heart skipped a beat.

The tree was clear, showing off its shiny bark and leaves, and even though it was made with crayons, I instantly knew it was the same tree from my dreams. I flipped the paper over to see if my parents or someone else had written a date on it, but I couldn’t find anything. I flipped it again and looked at the drawing then at the folder it had fallen out of. I decided to open it and saw that inside there were several drawings, all in plastic folders with years written on them. I sat down on a wooden three-legged stool and slowly went through each plastic folder. It ranged from the age of one and a half years old, to when I was around six.

As expected from a toddler, the drawings were nothing interesting, but as I got older, I started to draw more and more things that resembled things from real life. Looking through the drawings, nothing was out of the ordinary until I reached the folder labeled six years old. Most of the drawings were about superheroes from cartoons I had been watching on the tv, to robots, dinos and treasure maps, because I was obsessed with pirates for a period. But sometimes there would be drawings of elves, fairies, huge green people, which I first had assumed to be Hulk, but he didn’t have tusks. Then there were drawings of a pink and purple forest, of dragons, caves covered in colorful mushrooms and crystals, and a young centaur. Except he wasn’t a centaur, as he had dots on his back and tiny antlers.

I stood up abruptly as I stared at the drowning of a deer boy, and the image of my dream flashed in front of me. The drawing resembled the person in my dream, the person I watched get crushed by the wall and I dropped the binder onto the floor. My hands were trembling, and I clenched them into fist willing them to stop shaking as I let out a breath, my heart drumming in my chest. Suddenly the door to the garage opened and my mom walked in, looking worried at me then at the folder on the floor.

“Soreen, are you alright? I heard several things get knocked over earlier,” she said as she made her way over to me. The door to the garage was connected to the kitchen, so as she was baking, she would have been able to hear the things inside the box fall to the floor, and then when I dropped the binder, it might have made her worried. I looked at her and gave her a small reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just got surprised by a spider in the binder,” I quickly lied as I went to pick up the binder from the floor. She looked at it and her eyes softened as she smiled.

“Oh, your kid drawings,” she said fondly as she took the binder and opened it. I watched her flip the plastic folders over until she stopped at the folder labeled age six years. She moved her fingers gently over them, still smiling. “I remember when you started to draw super heroes, you seemed to be obsessed with a certain spider guy,” she chuckled softly.

“Yeah, and dinos, but I also seemed to enjoy drawing elves,” I mentioned casually as I pulled out one of the drawings of an elf.

“Yeah, we used to read a lot of fantasy stories to you when you were a kid, and even though you said you didn’t want us to read about it anymore as you got older, you kept drawing it,” she said and took the drawing of the elf, to get a better look at it. “You rather want us to read stories about superheroes or dinosaurs, but for some reason you dreamt of elves and orcs, dragons and other magical beings,” she said slightly puzzled by it but kept smiling. “I guess it affected you much more than we thought it would, which were probably why you wanted us to read something else.” 

I looked at the drawings, frowning a little as I thought. Could it be I had been dreaming the same dreams as a kid and not remembering them? When did I stop dreaming about this other world? Could the reason for my sudden interest in superheroes and other things be because I was having nightmares of this fantasy world, that I hoped to dream of something else?

“Mom, when did I stop dream about fantasy?” I asked as I took the binder and pulled out the drawing of the deer boy.

“Hmm I’m not sure, but you stopped drawing it when you were eight. Actually, I think we made a binder specifically for your drawings of it, as you began to draw it every day and would tell us stories of it,” she said and started to look around. “Let me see, where could it be?” she said and went to look through a few boxes, labeled different years. “Ah here it is,” she said when she found it and pulled out a dark blue binder. I was almost shaking with anticipation for what kind of drawings were hidden inside, and did my best not to pull it out of her hands. I leaned over to look when she opened the binder and the first drawing was of a dragon, nothing special, beside it was almost silvery gray with blue streaks.

“You begged us to buy you new color pencils, especially gold and silver pencils, not that I could really see the difference, but you seemed to be able to,” she chuckled and flipped over to the next drawing and my heart skipped a beat.

Another drawing of the tree, though it was smaller, like seen from a distance with buildings I had tried to draw, though I didn’t seem to quite manage to do so. Then the next picture was of a group of people, the same ones that I had been trying to draw, except this one seemed to have been drawn with more details, as much as a kid could do. The color of the clothes, the extra detail of their accessories, like the fox person carrying what looked like a lute and the cat person reminding me of the movie adaptation of the musical Cats. The deer looking boy had a heart shaped dot on his side, and the big stag looking man, had braided beard, and a broken antler. It was strange to look at them, to get a better understanding of what they looked like than just a foggy image. 

Then my mom moved on to the next drawing, which was of the same strange person dressed in black. I had drawn him standing in a grey and stony room, with a throne behind him. It was clear he was royal, as I had tried to draw an emblem of some sort on his shoulder, holding his cape which was draped over one shoulder. He also wore a crown, which seemed to be made of some kind of iron, twisted like wines, with red gemstones embedded in it. But the face had been scribbled out, as if I had been afraid of his eyes and decided to draw over them, hiding them away from view. Again, there was this strange feeling inside, a hidden fear, which probably explained why I still reacted to the other drawing. It was my subconsciousness telling me about my fears of him as a kid, but I wasn’t sure why. There was nothing special about him, he honestly looked like a cool designed character, but if I had been dreaming about him, there might have been more to it.

“I remember him,” his mom suddenly said as she looked at the drawing. “You used to wake up from your nightmares, begging us not to let him take you,” she frowned a little as she looked at the drawing. “You wouldn’t tell me what you dreamt of, only that you didn’t like him, and he was scary,” she shrugged a little as she then moved on to the next drawing, which was of a pink and purple forest, then a drawing of huge mushrooms.

And that was how we spent the next twenty minutes, going through drawings after drawings, until my mom suddenly remembered she had bread in the oven, and handed me the binder, as she hurried of to the kitchen. I looked at the drawings and decided to take them with me, along with the other drawings I did at the age of six. I collected them all and placed them on a shelf, then I turned my focus on the task at hand and finished sorting out the things.

It took hours, but I didn’t seem to find the Christmas decorations, but now the things where sorted, so it would be easier for my parents to go through it, so I decided to return to the kitchen, where I was met by the smell of freshly baked bread. My mom was sitting by the dining table, her laptop in front of her, typing away, with a slice of buttered bread next to her, uneaten. She was looking focused on whatever she was doing that I didn’t want to disturb her.

My mom worked for a firm, sorting out orders and making sure everything was going smoothly between customers, their orders and the deliveries. Even though it was a Saturday, she would still work if something important came up, though that rarely happened. My dad worked as a carpenter and sometimes had to work on the weekends too, to make sure things got done on time. He enjoyed his work even though it took a toll on his body, but he rarely complained. I on the other hand worked at a grocery store, mostly after school, for a couple of hours, a few times a week. I rarely had the weekend job as they preferred people under the age of 18 as they were cheaper to have.

I sliced a few pieces of bread, spread out some homemade apple and cinnamon jam, and went up to my room. I made sure to take the binders with me when I did, and when I got into my room, I placed the plate and the binders onto my table before closing the door behind me and turned on some music, as I looked through my drawings again, hoping to remember more about my dreams.

I hadn’t realized how many hours I had spent in my room, comparing my old and new drawings, until my mom knocked on the door to tell me dinner was ready. I followed my mom down to the dining room where my dad sat with his phone in his hand as he was texting something. He looked up and his brown eyes looked at me, and a wide smile appeared of his face.

“Soreen! Well done in the garage, now everything should be easy to sort through,” he said, beaming proudly at me. I smiled back and took a seat.

“Yeah, it wasn’t easy, but be careful, there was a box that opened when I moved it, though nothing broke,” I warned him before I started to scoop up some food onto my plate. My mom had made a whole roasted herb marinated chicken, which she had cut up into pieces. She had also made parsley coated potatoes, some sort of salad though I didn’t really eat salad, and a homemade salad dressing which was perfect for the chicken too.

“We’ll be careful,” my dad said and nodded, as he cut out some chicken before taking a bite.

“So how was your day?” my mom asked my dad, which made him go on a long spiel about his work as we ate, and by the time he was done with his story, we were all done with our dinner. I tuned them out as I helped clean out the dining room and went upstairs to my room as they continued their talk, doing the dishes together. Cody followed me into my room and went to his chewing toy that was on the floor next to the bed. while I sat down by my desk. I pulled up my laptop from my backpack and went on to search about mythical creatures such as half deer and half human breed, and even though there was a huge list, cervitaurs where one that caught my attention. I then spend hours researching, until I went to bed by midnight, and burried myself under my covers, letting myself be swallowed by darkness.