“Mummy! Mummy!” Dalia heard a scream. Her clothes torn and covered with dust, a little girl stood in the middle of some kind of road, debris all around her. The little girl was screaming at the top of her voice. Dalia wanted to get close to her, but the air was so thick with dust that besides having difficulty breathing, she could not clearly see ahead of her. She started to walk towards the little girl when a shrill sound pierced her ears. Covering them with her hands she tried to turn back and run. But her feet were glued to the ground. She could not move no matter how hard she tried. The sound got louder and louder. With her hands still on her ears, terrified she closed her eyes and cowered on the ground waiting. Not long after a deafening explosion shook the ground under her. Startled she opened her eyes and looked around. She was in her sitting room. All the lights were on in her apartment. Other than the humming noise made by the air-condition all was dead quiet around her. She gasped. She was cold, very cold. She shivered and pulling her sweater over her pajama top she went into the kitchen to make herself a strong cup of coffee.
She couldn’t remember when was the last time she had had those dreams. The faces, the eyes of those people in the painting, the little girl, lost and covered in dust, her hysteric screams for her mother in the void. Dalia sighed.
She sat down at the kitchen table with her coffee and holding her head in her hands she closed her eyes. She was afraid. She had been afraid last night when she had come home, that’s why she had kept all the lights on in the house. Afraid of eyes looking at her, of faces screaming, of people crying. Fear had once again penetrated into her being and nothing could take her mind of it. She remembered a quote she had come across once in one of the so many books she had read. It read something like ‘pain doesn’t listen to reason, it has its own reason, which is not reasonable.’ So was fear she thought, after all those years she was still afraid beyond all reason. Startled by the alarm of her mobile-phone, she looked at her watch. Five thirty in the morning, time for her to start a new day.