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Everyone loves "Based on a real story"

I don't know what it is, but I've always had firm beliefs in messages or signs from beyond our world. I know, I know, "Is she delusional?" Call me what you want, but first, listen to a few of my stories.

Ever since I can remember, I've always had active dreams. It was as if I entered a new world, fully conscious and fully capable of remembering everything that happened. Sometimes, if I was really focused, I could control or alter the dreams however I pleased. The story I'm about to tell you is a night that happened almost eight years ago now, but I remember it as if it were a movie I've re-watched my whole life.~

~My childhood home had an attic, tall enough to walk in but short enough to touch the ceiling with ease. The stairs were short and choppy, and the walls were narrow with old style popcorn paint. As you reached the top of the stairs, you met a wall with a window, and had to turn around to see the long-stretched open room with diagonal walls. There, in the far-left corner, sat my bed. I remember, as though it were a part of my physical life, a dream I had many years ago.

I sat up in my bed in the middle of the night. Something was off, something was different. Everything looked the same, but something about me was different. In the midst of my confusion, I remember a scratching sound on the wall below my bed. I had a bedframe with only 3 solid sides, leaving a space below that was hidden by the front drawers. I remember hearing this sound, and for some reason unknown to me, I squeezed my hand under my bed and down the side of the wall.

There was a girl.

I pulled her to the surface, and she laid on my bed. She was a young child, and she was burned. No human feature remained on her face, and her arms were nothing but peeling purple scales. Shocked, but for some reason unafraid, I watched as she crawled down and stood at the foot of my bed. It was then that I noticed my closet door was open; another small child stood, peaking from behind the door. Once this child saw the girl next to me, he walked out from the door, and stood with her at the foot of the bed.

He had a hood on, much too large for his head, so I couldn’t see if he had any features left. As they stood there, I held out my arms - tears swelled my eyes. I hugged them and held their small, burned bodies. For reasons unknown, I told them I loved them.

It was then that I became frantic, as they suddenly collapsed to the floor. Panicked, I picked them up and put them on my bed, and I watched in awe while they began healing. Their faces flush with blood, and their bodies healthy as mine. They woke up, looked at each other, and cheered full of life. As if I was no longer there, they bounced around the room like children who had the spirit of Christmas. I tried to corral them and calm them down - to no avail; they sprinted down the stairs together. I chased after them, but once I made my way down to the living room, I saw only my mother reading a book on the couch. I asked where they went, and she said they went outside. Desperate to catch up with them, I swung the front door open only to see nothing. The houses, neighbors, everything was gone. The road and parked cars were gone, and we were the only house in the middle of a meadow field. The children were no where to be found, and I stood in disbelief as the world I realized I was in, was not my own.

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