Dreams

Treasca was in a field of various vegetables. Her brown work hardened hands held a plow, and she carefully loosened the earth around the plants. Her old patched dress was too hot, and the bonnet she wore did little to keep the sun from searing her eyes. She raised stretching her back. She was getting too old for this, but they would need the crop this winter. She smiled over at her grandson he was only eight, but he was such a wonderful help. She saw suddenly an orange glow on the horizon. What was that? It was kind of pretty. Then the screaming started coming from her neighbors home. Her eyes widened, and she ran for her grandson faster than she had moved in years. She threw him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and ran with all her strength. She dumped him into the cellar, and was looking around for her other children when the flames hit her from behind. She screamed, and Treasca bolted up right in bed. She rubbed her head, it was pounding and for some reason her back hurt. She moved to the mirror lowering the top half of her dress. Her back was flaming red as if she had a sunburn. She sat back on the bed trying to think. The boy was the one she had healed, so his grandmother had saved him. She wondered why she would suddenly be having visions from the point of view of a dead woman, but she knew of only one person to ask, Brenton.