It was the same dream every time lately. She would be standing inside a tomb in front of an open sarcophagus. She would start to go close, but before she reached it, the sarcophagus would start to spew body parts, which would be sliding down the sides and then on the cool floor towards her. The frothy boiling mixture would bubble, drenching the chamber, and her, with splash upon splash of blood and entrails.

Every splash would burn her skin, every part would start to climb on her body and the nails would claw at her and scratch her again and again. Every splash was a collection of body parts from what looked like the mutilated body of a woman. The parts would rise and click together in their right place to form that woman. The woman would then rise, dripping blood, and extend her arms in pleading to her. A child would appear next to the woman and would try to hold her hand.

The woman, seemingly rooted to the spot and unable to move closer to the child, would extend one arm in an attempt to reach the child, her hand desperately pining for the child’s hand. But however hard they tried, it was all in vain. They would never reach each other; their hands would never touch. Then suddenly they would both disappear in a cloud of loud screams that resonated in Elli’s head long after they had gone.

Elli suddenly jumped out of her deep sleep. It was her recurring nightmare again. She thought it had left her for good. But it seemed that it was not to be. It was back with a vengeance, worse than before. She lay on the bed and listened. Nothing. The nightmare was still vivid in her mind and she felt disorientated and struggling for breath. She would not be able to go back to sleep now. She got up and put on her nightgown.