Dear Lauren,

I had another nightmare. I don't understand why they keep coming and coming and coming. All on the same night as the week before.

I was in school and I was Sophie Foster. I never seem to be able to be myself. But that's besides the point.

I was eating lunch with Keefe and we were grabbing food when zombies broke down the door. I wanted to cry, I still do.

The zombies were covered in the blood of their last victims. They probably ate their organs and that's all that's left.

Keefe was one of their first victims. He laid on the now red floor as the zombies devoured him. Screams pieced my ears as they left the mouths of the poor unfortunate souls and the ones who'd be next.

All this happened in a few moments, yet it seemed to last lifetimes. In that time, however long it was, I was up and running, Ro right behind me.

She managed to last a bit longer than Keefe, but  hordes of the undead eventually overwhelmed the ogre bodyguard. It was all I could do to get outside.

Soon, I shed that dream and moved on to the next one.

I was at a camp, in my own body this time. I don't want to have to take another person's face again.

We were in a hurricane this time. All the campers, including me, and staff were ushered to the dining hall where we were told we'd be safe.

Oh, how wrong they were.

Rain pored down relentless as winds shook the room. Soon, the dining hall was lifted off of the ground, hurtling through the sky. Some of the other people fell out. I was almost one of them.

All of a sudden, we landed back on the ground. Some people died and others broke a couple of bones, but that was the most injuries.

The room seemed smaller after we were safely on the ground. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder and there wasn't enough space to sit.

An instructor yelled at us from somewhere in the front. He told us that it was a time to respect those who died in this disaster.

I thought of you, Lauren. Your brown hair, your dimples that always seemed to shine. Who could have guessed you were hiding so much inner pain?

I thought of Coach Mark, Uncle Jimmie, Mrs. Roberts, Mercy, Taylor, Mrs. Trumble, and all others that have died. You all have made such an impact on me, whether it's in life or death, if you know it or if you don't.

A girl recently shared about her friend who also died the week before she went to the camp I went to. I felt so much sorrow when she shared about how Taylor died and how she knew that she was safely in God's hands.

Why can't I feel like that? Do I even have a right to feel that? Please, I just want to know if you're still suffering. If there's no life after death, or heaven, or anything like that...

Please, Lauren, I'm begging you. Send me a sign.

Maybe these dreams are you talking to me. They occur on the night between Sunday and Monday. You died on a Monday. Your memorial was on a Monday. You broke my heart on a Sunday.

I saw someone make a joke about committing suicide. I know he was joking, but... After you, this doesn't feel like a joke. It feels scary, and permanent, and depressing.

When I was at camp, there were so few lights, so there were a lot of stars. I even got to see the Big Dipper. It really is big. You should have seen it. I almost wept at the sight of so many and couldn't stop imagining, What if you were a star?

Maybe one day I'll be on the ISS and you'll see me too. We'll wave to each other when I'm doing a space walk.

Did you know that 4 people are going to live in a room to train for space less than an hour from here? And that the Parker Solar Probe will be the closest spacecraft to the sun with 3.8 million miles between them?

Sorry, I'm getting off track here.

Instead of babbling about space for the rest of the night, I had to go see the fireworks they were showing by the lake.

The sound, Lauren. The sound was unbearable. It took me a moment to put my finger on it, but it was terrifying when I did.

Each explosion of color sounded like the time Jaylee's house was shot at. It sounded like the gun shop next door to my martial arts place. It sounded like a bullet being embedded in your heart.

I don't know if that's really what made your heart stop beating, your lungs stop breathing, but the wondering is almost as bad.

Why do you give us all this pain? Is it revenge? Did not talking to you give you such pain? Or was it bullies?

No matter what, I will never stop wondering. Not until I can ask you myself.