Author's Preface
Tuesday, 6 February 1894
I had my nightmare again last night. Sister Grace saw me crying in the hallway. She asked me about my diary. I felt bad that I hadn't written anything except the one entry, where I wasn't very nice in what I wrote about her. I was honest with her and told her. I thought she was going to be mad at me but she wasn't. She said sometimes you need to just let things out, even if nobody ever hears. Then she apologized to me for some reason. She said she didn't mean to make me feel like she was comparing her problems to mine. Even when I do something stupid and mean, she doesn't blame me for it, even though she should. I think that is why I like her so much.
Sister Grace suggested I try writing down my nightmare. She says I can't know if it will help until I try. I promised I would so now I am. It hurts to think about it though.
My nightmare is always mostly the same. It starts outside our old home, back when I was eight. Mum is with me and I'm playing with my doll. Dad's inside making dinner. Ryn is away, playing with friends. It's really cold out and it was snowing. I'm trying to stop the snow from falling because I think that's why it's so cold and I want it to be warm again. I slip and fall, breaking my doll. Mum takes her inside to dad while I stay outside.
I don't realize they're about to die until it's too late to stop her. There's a crash, and then mum starts screaming. I try to wish away the problem but it doesn't work. I open the door too late, fire everywhere. Then I wake up.
Wednesday, 7 February 1894
I had my nightmare again last night. I promised Sister Grace I would write so I'm going to write, even though the dream is always the same.
It starts with me outside our house in Fettercairn, playing with Kenna. I'm eight again and mum and dad are still alive. I'm happy at first, running around and making Kenna catch the snow to keep it off the ground. I trip and accidentally pull her arm off and start crying. Mum rushes over and takes Kenna and says she'll take her to dad to fix her for me if he has time before dinner. That makes me happy again.
Mum goes inside. I stay outside catching snow. There's a loud noise that makes me stumble and fall. That's when I realize I'm dreaming and remember everything. I know the noise was from inside our house. I know mum and dad are trapped. I know the fire is spreading. I know if I turn around I'll see it burning. If I had just remembered sooner I could have warned her. She could have called dad outside instead. I close my eyes tight and tell myself to wake up, but I don't. I hear mum scream and can't stop myself from turning around. I see the smoke and flames. I rush to the door and open it. I see a flash of fire. Then I wake up.
It's always the same.
Saturday, 10 February 1894
I couldn't sleep at all Wednesday, so there was no dream to write about. I was too afraid to sleep. If I couldn't help but think of mum and dad how could I not dream of them? I tried to stay awake Thursday night as well but I couldn't stay awake. I was lucky and did not dream then.
I was almost happy on Friday. Mr. Gillies gave us a lesson in French. I can focus on French better than maths. The lesson was enough to keep my mind off of mum and dad for a while.
Until I fell asleep, that is. I had my nightmare again last night. Three nights in less than a week. I have not had so many dreams in the same week since I was nine.
I don't think writing is helping me feel any better about it. I'm still really sad about mum and dad, and more scared to sleep at night. If I dream of them then I will cry twice as much if I write about it. I know I promised Sister Grace, but I can't write about them again.
Tuesday, 27 February 1894
I had a new dream last night. It was very strange. Not exactly pleasant but not my usual nightmare at least. I felt a bit like Alice, repeating her lessons and her multiplications and such getting all mixed up by all the strangeness around her. I didn't fall through any rabbit hole or step through any mirror and wasn't in a strange place though. I was just in the schoolhouse, but the people and the furniture were quite odd. The blackboard was not black but orange - too light so I couldn't read any of the chalk writing on it. The seats were flipped over upside-down, so everyone was sitting with their heads on the floor. The seats were all different colors. Reds, greens, oranges, pinks, and blues. The books all had purple covers, and the pages were completely black.
Sister Mary Maxwell, Sister Grace, Sister Mary Aston, and Sister Sarah Matthews were all short and students too. The teacher was my twin instead of Mr. Gillies or Mr. McGowen. I don't mean it was Ryn, but another, taller, me. Ryn was there though, in learning with the girls for some reason. I kept yelling - not the real me, but the teacher me - at Ryn and Sister Grace and me for making mistakes. Teacher me even belted Sister Grace's hands until they bled once for spelling Edinburgh wrong. Sister Mary Maxwell was praised by the teacher for saying 7 was how many 3's are in 18, and she called Sister Sarah's "mardi est la soupe de chat" perfect French. C'est stupide.
As we were reading, we all turned into animals. Ryn's mouth stretched into a crocodile snout. Loudmouth Lizzie's nose squished into a cat's and grew whiskers. Bunny's ears sprouted out of my head and flopped over my eyes.
When I pushed the ears out of the way, I was somewhere else. Somebody's drawing room. I think. It looked very fancy. There were two little boys and a girl in the room with me. The younger boy looked up at me and ask "Dae we need tae rithmertics today firecrackers?"
Then a woman yelled "Charlie! Manners!" from another room and the boy said, "I mean Miss Firecrackers." The woman said that was "much better".
Then I woke up.
I don't like school, but I don't want to be a governess either. Why can't I learn to make tools? Dad was happy doing that and didn't have to be bothered by people all the time when he worked. Why can't girls make tools? Or work in the docks like they say Ryn probably will? I'm not as strong as Ryn but I could be strong enough.