Free The Truth Against the World by Sarah Jamila Stevenson

skin. It’s just like before, but this time, there’s more. On one side is an old abandoned church, moss and leaves pushing through cracks in the crumbling stone. I’m moving as if propelled, stiffly, like a marionette.
    I pass the church, and the ocean cliff grows nearer. Then I see it: a group of huge rocks stacked on top of one another like a low, sunken doorway. A strange electricity gathers in the air under the gray, overcast skies, and suddenly I’m beyond the stones. In the grass a young woman is kneeling, her back to me. Her long dark hair spills over her shoulders, which are heaving, shaking. Over the loud pounding of the sea, I hear quiet, keening sobs.
    The hairs on my arms stand up, as if the atmosphere is charged with static, and then abruptly there’s a profound silence, the sounds of the ocean receding into the distance. In the stillness, I hear the young woman let out an anguished cry.
    A shiver crawls up my spine. Her voice, low and rich and rough with sorrow, seems somehow familiar. “Olwen,” she cries again.
    Then the dream is slipping away and my eyes are opening.

    Someone was calling my name. It was Gee Gee.
    â€œOlwen … Wyn, are you here?”
    Her voice drifted down the hall, quavering but insistent. I hauled myself out of bed, glancing at the clock: 6:27 a.m. I turned off the alarm I’d set for 6:30 and padded quickly in my slippers to Gee Gee’s room. Inside, it was dim, the curtains blocking most of the early morning light, and all I could see was a slender, shadowy shape sitting up in bed, surrounded by blankets.
    â€œAre you okay?” My voice was tight with anxiety. I lingered in the doorway; I didn’t know what I would do if something was really wrong. “I was just getting up. Do you need me to get you anything? Do you need help up?”
    Gee Gee pressed a button, and the back of the hospital bed slowly hummed its way upright. “I should be the one asking you if you’re all right,” she said with a gentle smile. “I thought I heard you crying out.” She started to scoot her legs over the side of the bed.
    â€œNo, don’t get up.” I hesitated. “I’m fine. I was having another nightmare. I guess I was talking in my sleep.” I walked in and tucked the blue-and-green quilt around Gee Gee’s shoulders, my heart twisting as I felt their fragility, their narrowness.
    â€œOh, my dear,” she said. Her voice was sad, as if she felt sorry. I wouldn’t be able to take it if she felt sorry.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said quickly. “I’m getting up for school now anyway. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
    â€œNo, dear, I’m quite comfortable.” She patted my hand, her touch papery, ghostlike.
    I hated to think about it, but I knew she didn’t have a lot of time left. We’d go to Wales, and then … It struck me that I didn’t want to be left wishing we’d talked more. Or regretting the fact that I hadn’t asked her all the questions I could possibly think of before she was gone.
    I sat down at the foot of the bed. “Gee Gee, I know this might sound silly.” I swallowed, my throat dry. “Can I tell you about the dream I had?”
    â€œOf course you can, dear.” She looked at me, and I could see the worry lines etched into her forehead. “This dream, though. Was it what we talked about before?” I tensed up, waiting for her to elaborate. “A sensitive dream?”
    â€œI don’t know.” I hooked one arm over the bed’s metal safety railing and stared down at the quilt. “I saw … I keep seeing a woman who looks like you, but younger. Everything’s green, and I know somehow it’s in Wales. There’s an old church, by the sea. And she’s crying, like someone’s died.” Tears sprang to my eyes. “It’s so sad. Was it … ” I swallowed hard. “Was it