Pandora hadn’t dreamt about Lily in a long time. She hadn’t dreamt in a long time, for that matter. A peaceful night’s sleep was seldom achieved by anyone, considering the current circumstances, and so of course the girl often found herself far too exhausted for any sort of mental activity in the late hours of the night.
After everything that had happened, Pandora had gone to every possible length to ensure that she didn’t dream about Lily. That she couldn’t dream about Lily. She would stay up until dawn perfecting her potions, ride her tattered bike into town first thing every morning, allowing little to no time for actual thought. Anything to distract herself from the fact that it had been almost a year since she’d last written to her, and Lily’s responding owl had yet to arrive.
It wasn’t just dreams that Pandora seemed to have lost her grasp of. The visions had vanished altogether. She supposed that this was a good thing, as the paralysing anxiety and overwhelming feeling of helplessness that tended to accompany said visions had ceased, for the most part.
That was, until tonight.
The vision began at 3:44am, a startling image which flashed into the forefront her mind so quickly that she could hardly process what was happening. This was definitely not a dream.
The tangle of red hair was instantly recognisable, even when blurred by the shiny haze of Pandora’s unconscious state. It was as though she was viewing everything through a bubble, a sinister distortion engulfing her mind. Lily.
She was holding a small, blanketed bundle in her arms. A child? It couldn’t be. Lily couldn’t possibly have a child. However, Pandoras skepticism was instantly challenged as she watched a tiny hand reach up weakly, clutching at its mother’s fiery locks.
She didn’t get the chance to linger on this information, before spotting an eerie figure looming at the front door. The vision was beginning to fog over, leaving Pandora squinting and swiping at the air for a clearer view, scrambling for the answers to her endless trail of worried questions.
Suddenly, she was jolted out of her sleep, tiny beads of sweat forming on her forehead and her heart pounding at the speed of light. Lily was in danger.
Pandora knew precisely where the Potters lived. How could she forget? She still had fond memories of walking past the same house every weekend with Lily, its brick walls adorned with delicate green ivy, the ‘For Sale’ sign which was hammered into the mud before it. The way Lily would clutch her arm and point at it, giggling, “That one. That one will be ours.” Dreams of that house were often Pandora’s more pleasant ones.
Yet here she now was at 3:50am, cycling down the darkened street in her nightgown. The only light source was the quiet glow of the intermittent street lamps which were placed every few meters or so apart. The house wasn’t far, she knew that for sure. Paying no mind to the aggressive burning in her calves, or the misty chill of the night, she had no time to think about logistics. Not when the only thought currently crossing through her panicked mind was Lily, Lily, Lily.
The unmistakable front door was ajar when she arrived, the maroon one with the intricate lion knocker. Upon noticing this, a sickening sense of dread settled over Pandora’s stomach. She clutched her wand a little tighter beneath her sleeve.
Nudging the door open anxiously, her slipper-covered feet met the cold wood of the Potters’ hallway floor. Cold, and… damp? Nothing could have prepared her for the sight she was about to witness.
Lily. Her first and only love. The girl who taught her how to live, how to laugh, how to cry. The girl who had approached first, back in their first year, as Pandora was too nervous to even make eye contact with the ‘pretty girl in her potions class’. The girl who always knew exactly how to let Pandora be unapologetically herself. The girl who was now lying dead on the floor, right before her very eyes.
Pandora leapt forward, her hands trembling desperately. What do I do? What do I do. She cupped Lily’s cheek gently, the warmth of her skin twitching as it came into contact with the wintry lifelessness of the girl before her. She dragged the limp body into her lap, the flames of her hair melting into the dark bloodstains which now tarnished Pandora’s cream nightgown.
Cry. That was all she could think to do. Lily had always told her that it was okay to cry, and she wished that Lily was here to tell her the same now. Her eyes glistened over like tiny rock pools, as the crystals of her tears fell, tainting two ghost faces.
From that day forward, the dreams taunted her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t rid herself of them. Whether to consider them dreams or nightmares, Pandora wasn’t sure. She didn’t know if dreams depicting a life with Lily, a life which had been just out of reach, could ever truly be dreams. After all, dreams are supposed to be peaceful, right?