Translation
Fanfic: Der Traum
Chapter: The dream
Prologue - The Dream
Every night ... Every night the same, the same dream. I've dreamed it for years, actually I couldn't even remember when I started it. It always ran the same, and when I woke up I could only remember little things without being able to grasp the entire content. How I would like to know the reason, how I would like to know why I woke up every night with my heart pounding wildly and seeing images that disappeared before I could actually see them. Sometimes I thought I could vaguely remember a face ... But I couldn't draw or describe it. I just knew it had to be someone who was very close to me in my dreams.
As always when I had dreamed the dream - that's what I just called it - I couldn't fall asleep afterwards. I felt so restless like I was running.
The room was dark. I got up slowly and pulled up the blinds on my windows.It was already getting dark outside and a few spots of light danced up and down, although the sun had not yet risen. I sit down in front of my little table. Since I couldn't fall asleep anyway, I knew that from experience, I could just as easily get up and prepare for school. My long, red gold hair shone in the dark. My gray-green eyes looked at me from the mirror as I began to perform my morning ritual with slow brushstrokes. As paradoxical as it sounds, when I combed my hair, everything seemed to be fine again, and I was returning from my dream to the real world, so to speak. This time of day, the transition from night to morning, was my favorite. The birds began to sing, and in this wonderful, pure country, to which we had moved not long ago, the sun seemed much closer to me than in Europe, which in comparison seemed very gloomy and somehow colorless, although I had already seen many beautiful corners and areas there.I had to smile. My parents were just restless, nothing seemed to hold them back. We had traveled all over the world since I was little, and I was just as fascinated by the individual cultures as my parents. It didn't even bother me much that we usually only stayed at one place of residence for a few months. I loved this vagabond life, had led it from an early age and I wouldn't want to miss it for anything. However, I was soon 18 - only 2 months left! - and I wouldn't want to stay with my parents forever, even though I adored them. Every time I saw father and mother together, I was amazed again. I had never seen two people who loved each other so dearly as they did. When I was younger and just going through puberty, I was sometimes jealous of the relationship between the two of them, but by now I understood that they had been given something very special, something that very few people received.Would I ever experience something like that? I doubted it. I looked at myself critically in the mirror. Well, I was definitely not ugly, but I wanted to stay free and independent, at least for the moment. I just wasn't mature enough to be in relationships, and maybe that wasn't even bad. I turned around slightly when my eyes fell on a small box wrapped in light blue paper. What was that? Then I remembered. My parents often brought me presents, little things, antique things that weren't very valuable, but that I collected because I found them so beautiful. I smiled. Mama often made me happy doing things like that, and she knew full well that I would puzzle over the history of the little object without ever finding out. But I loved it anyway, because that was exactly what was special about it for me. I picked up the box. When my fingers touched it, a flash of lightning flashed through me, and rapid images formed in my head without my being able to recognize them.I quickly pulled my fingers away. My body was shaking and my forehead was sweaty. What happened? My heart was beating so fast it made me gasp. I stared at the innocent-looking wrapped box. Despite the not exactly pleasant experience, I knew I had to tear off the paper and discover the secret of this item. Here lay the key and instinctively - or was it knowledge? - I knew that what was in the box had something to do with my dream. With my fingertips still trembling, I grabbed the light blue paper and even though something like an electrical shock went through me, I tore it off. A small box emerged, no bigger than a paperback perhaps, a little dusty perhaps, but surrounded by a strange charm. And I knew immediately that I was right in my assumptions: I knew this gem! Everything was spinning in my head when 1000 images appeared to appear at the same time.From far away I heard a person scream, shrieking and as if in fear of death. Before my eyes I saw terrible images and when I closed them in fear and pain, they only became clearer. Destruction. Blood. Dead. The scream just stopped and didn't stop. I clapped my hands over my head, trying to shut out the human voice. Shortly before my eyes went completely black, before I finally hit the mark, I realized that this almost inhuman-sounding scream wasn't far away: It was me who screamed.
Every night ... Every night the same, the same dream. I've dreamed it for years, actually I couldn't even remember when I started it. It always ran the same, and when I woke up I could only remember little things without being able to grasp the entire content. How I would like to know the reason, how I would like to know why I woke up every night with my heart pounding wildly and seeing images that disappeared before I could actually see them. Sometimes I thought I could vaguely remember a face ... But I couldn't draw or describe it. I just knew it had to be someone who was very close to me in my dreams.
As always when I had dreamed the dream - that's what I just called it - I couldn't fall asleep afterwards. I felt so restless like I was running.
The room was dark. I got up slowly and pulled up the blinds on my windows.It was already getting dark outside and a few spots of light danced up and down, although the sun had not yet risen. I sit down in front of my little table. Since I couldn't fall asleep anyway, I knew that from experience, I could just as easily get up and prepare for school. My long, red gold hair shone in the dark. My gray-green eyes looked at me from the mirror as I began to perform my morning ritual with slow brushstrokes. As paradoxical as it sounds, when I combed my hair, everything seemed to be fine again, and I was returning from my dream to the real world, so to speak. This time of day, the transition from night to morning, was my favorite. The birds began to sing, and in this wonderful, pure country, to which we had moved not long ago, the sun seemed much closer to me than in Europe, which in comparison seemed very gloomy and somehow colorless, although I had already seen many beautiful corners and areas there.I had to smile. My parents were just restless, nothing seemed to hold them back. We had traveled all over the world since I was little, and I was just as fascinated by the individual cultures as my parents. It didn't even bother me much that we usually only stayed at one place of residence for a few months. I loved this vagabond life, had led it from an early age and I wouldn't want to miss it for anything. However, I was soon 18 - only 2 months left! - and I wouldn't want to stay with my parents forever, even though I adored them. Every time I saw father and mother together, I was amazed again. I had never seen two people who loved each other so dearly as they did. When I was younger and just going through puberty, I was sometimes jealous of the relationship between the two of them, but by now I understood that they had been given something very special, something that very few people received.Would I ever experience something like that? I doubted it. I looked at myself critically in the mirror. Well, I was definitely not ugly, but I wanted to stay free and independent, at least for the moment. I just wasn't mature enough to be in relationships, and maybe that wasn't even bad. I turned around slightly when my eyes fell on a small box wrapped in light blue paper. What was that? Then I remembered. My parents often brought me presents, little things, antique things that weren't very valuable, but that I collected because I found them so beautiful. I smiled. Mama often made me happy doing things like that, and she knew full well that I would puzzle over the history of the little object without ever finding out. But I loved it anyway, because that was exactly what was special about it for me. I picked up the box. When my fingers touched it, a flash of lightning flashed through me, and rapid images formed in my head without my being able to recognize them.I quickly pulled my fingers away. My body was shaking and my forehead was sweaty. What happened? My heart was beating so fast it made me gasp. I stared at the innocent-looking wrapped box. Despite the not exactly pleasant experience, I knew I had to tear off the paper and discover the secret of this item. Here lay the key and instinctively - or was it knowledge? - I knew that what was in the box had something to do with my dream. With my fingertips still trembling, I grabbed the light blue paper and even though something like an electrical shock went through me, I tore it off. A small box emerged, no bigger than a paperback perhaps, a little dusty perhaps, but surrounded by a strange charm. And I knew immediately that I was right in my assumptions: I knew this gem! Everything was spinning in my head when 1000 images appeared to appear at the same time.From far away I heard a person scream, shrieking and as if in fear of death. Before my eyes I saw terrible images and when I closed them in fear and pain, they only became clearer. Destruction. Blood. Dead. The scream just stopped and didn't stop. I clapped my hands over my head, trying to shut out the human voice. Shortly before my eyes went completely black, before I finally hit the mark, I realized that this almost inhuman-sounding scream wasn't far away: It was me who screamed.