I was sitting in my mother's room showing her a picture in the newspaper of Brendan, under a headline about people who used to be celebrities but aren't anymore. Somehow, I remembered him being in movies and commercials, yet he was the same Brendan I know. Before I knew it, it was midnight, and I had to go to sleep. I went to my room, and a man outside walked through my wall and fixed something, then proceeding to walk through a glass door and set up a bed outside on the porch. I screamed. What, he said, don't you realize that i just helped you? I was breathing heavily, as two blue suited police officers, one male and one female walked through my wall and through my stereo, and a black man in an orange suit too. I screamed, because I knew they were ghost.
Then somewhere, perhaps a ghost, told me that Cara Stones was dead. I stopped screaming and started crying. No, I said, that can't be! See? Look how beautiful she is in this picture...I said as I rummaged through pictures from zooteens, where Cara was off to the side or in the background.
Suddenly morning came, and I watched the news. In it, they said that yesterday was the rising of the dead, and that ghosts had wandered all over town. I felt relieved.
But no one at school knew who cara was, and no one cared that she'd died.
I remember feeling the same depression, loss, and pain that I've felt so often in these dreams.
