A Dream of Old Salem

Sarah woke up screaming: “Help! Help! I didn’t do it!” As an older brother, I had become accustomed to teenage tantrums from time to time. But this was really different. She sounded really scared.

I left my scrambled eggs and ran upstairs. Sarah was sitting up in her bed, pale and sweating. I gave her a reassuring hug, and was relieved to see the color return to her face. “What’s it all about, Sis?”

She gave an indecisive grin; her cheeks hadn’t decided whether they would rise or fall. Her eyes were puffy and damp: “Promise you won’t laugh at me, Trip?”

I was halfway to delivering a smart retort when I noticed her lips quivering. “Of course not, Sis,” I said. “Tell me what happened. A bad dream?”

“Yeah. I’ve never had one like this before. Sure you want to hear about it?”