Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had dreams so vivid I have trouble waking up. 

I’ve had every treatment from psychiatrists to shamans, but with each passing birthday, they get worse.There were no overnight trips, no sleepovers, no camp-outs in my childhood because chaperones and other kids were terrified of my ‘disability.’ 

Between my condition and being born on All Hallows Eve, the people in my hometown are convinced I’m ‘cursed.’

As if shit like that exists. 

I’d blow this popsicle stand, but my parents are in Storm Haven. Without them, I would need someone to help me wake so I could have a semblance of a normal life.

So here I am, a twenty year old celebrating the holidays with my parents and my dog instead of dating or going out with friends.

Maybe Santa will hear my wish this year and keep me in a dreamland where I’m not a freak.

After all, that’s about as likely as me being a witch, right?