The fears of the young and helpless.

When I was very young, around 4 to 7 years old, I used to have a particular recurring nightmare that would wake me up in the middle of the night, in tears.

As usual, details of the dream are hazy and certain parts would change, but it usually ended up with my parents being killed or put in prison. In my childish thinking, there was no difference in the circumstances behind it. The end result was what mattered; I would have to fend for myself. I was effectively an orphan. And I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

I would be alone. I would ALWAYS be alone.

It scared the crap out of me, every single time. Sometimes I am glad that I have difficulty remembering my dreams.