Oh, my God! I wake up in a cold sweat. I've never had such a vivid dream about someone that I've never met. It was definitely Dylan's sister, Lyndsay. I was inside her head, or she was in mine. All the while, she never stopped screaming. My skin is still crawling. I'm so unnerved by the nightmare that I go to the fridge and pull out a large, half eaten container of black cherry ice cream. Methodically, I start spooning the sweet, cold confection into my mouth. I'm swallowing the ice cream so fast I can't really taste it, but the act of eating calms me. I haven't touched a dessert in over a week, but right now I desperately need comfort food.

I wish I'd never spoken to Dylan. I should have known something bad would crawl out of the Sight's dark side. People think being psychic is cool, but like Midas's golden touch, it comes with a heavy price. Seemingly glamorous and wonderful at first, there's an awful hidden flip side to this phenomenon. Suddenly, your head goes somewhere
and then bam! It's impossible to crawl back out of the paranormal world. I witnessed it firsthand with my mother. She tried to embrace her otherworldly skills and they killed her.

Outside, dawn is breaking. As I watch the first rays of sunlight slanting through my pink curtains, I'm grateful I don't have to lie awake in the dark anymore. Cinching my white terry cloth robe tighter, I go out on the porch to sit in the morning light. There's a ghost under the tree. My mother's come to visit.

Instead of being happy to see her, I lose my temper and start yelling at the specter as if she's still alive. "Why are you still here? Haven't you done enough harm with your psychic bullshit!" I shout at her ghostly image, but she mysteriously smiles before slowly fading out of sight.

After she departs, I experience a fierce sense of remorse as I remember Christmas stories she read to me, the birthday cakes she made me by hand, and the time she taught me to ride my first bike. Like I've been punched in the gut, I miss her intensely. Even when she was depressed there were moments when she shined as a mother. Now that I can't feel her hugs anymore, I yearn to wrap my arms around her solid form one more time.

"Wait, I'm sorry," I whisper. "I didn't mean to say that. Come back." I scan the yard, but my mother's ghost is gone. Behind me, I hear the screen door open and then bang shut as my grandmother comes out onto the porch. When I turn around, I see she's holding two steaming cups of coffee in her hands.

Thank you for reading!👻