The trees seemed to reach for her, their roots tried to grab her by the ankle to drag her down in the mud. It was dark and cold and there was no stars in the sky. She heard things hiding in the dark. She could hear them breath. She tried to turn around, tried to wake up from this horrible nightmare. She was getting closer to the house. It would stand there behind that big old oak tree, staring at her with it\'s broken windows. Dead but still alive. She didn\'t want to go there, but she had no control over herself, the dream forced her to keep going. Closer to the house, the little red house which was by half fallen apart. Her hand reached out for the door handle and tears rolled down her pale cheeks. What if the door wasn\'t locked this time? What if this was the night she had to go in there and face... it... She sighed from the relief, the door was locked. Then she saw something in the corner of her eye, something was reaching out for her though the window! It was a small grey arm and then she heard it.
“Help me! Let me out!”

She woke up in bed, her face was wet from all the tears and she was almost strangled by the quilt. The clock on her bed table showed that is was six thirty in the morning. Half an hour until she had to get up. She thought about the dream and decided it wasn\'t worth the risk, she got up. She dug out a clean pink jumper from her wardrobe and cut of the price tag from the jeans she bought last weekend. She stumbled into the bathroom to put on her makeup. Four layers of mascara, and then one more for self-esteem.
“You can always hide behind mascara Marcy. Mascara and rouge are a girls best friends.” She told herself. Then she put on her everyday smile and put on some more rouge just to be sure to get that healthy look before she went downstairs.

“Why are you down this early Marcy?” her father asked without even looking up from the newspaper.
“I guess I\'m fully rested now. Do we have any cornflakes left?”
“Sure we do, your brother isn\'t up yet.”
She forced herself to smile bigger.
“Lucky me!”
She grabbed a bowl of cornflakes and sat down. Her mind kept going back to the dream. Before she only had it once or twice a month, but lately she had had it several times a week. And it seemed to get scarier every time too. Her fear of sleeping was growing, if there was only a way to never have to sleep again! Five years she thought. Five years since the dream came for the first time. She finished her cornflakes and went back to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She looked at the girl in the mirror for a long time. She looked happy, she smiled. Even her brown chocolate eyes smiled. The long beautiful hair was a little curly and her friends always told her it felt like silk. She would most of all like to cut it off. The door swung open.
“How can you get up so early and still be late Marcy? Hurry up now.”
She nodded to her father. He smiled at her and closed the door again. She took a last look at the girl in the mirror and put on one last layer of mascara.

“What are you thinking of Marcy?”
She looked up from the desk and smiled to her best friend.
“I was just thinking about that cute boy from the party last Saturday.”
That was a lie, but Sarah believed it.
“I told you to get his number, stupid!”
“Yeah, I know. I might ask for it if I see him again.”
A picture of the red house showed up in her head and made her shudder.
Sarah laughed.
“Marcy\'s in love!”
“Can we go to the computers? I want to know if I have any new e-mails. ”
Sarah nodded.
She didn\'t check for e-mails. She searched for a site with people that could tell her what her dream meant.

When she got home from school she went straight to the computer to check for answers.
“Dear Marcy, I\'d be glad to tell you what I think your dream might mean! It seems like you carry a lot of fear inside. The forest is dark and you cant see things clear, and you have to watch out not to bump in to any trees. What you can\'t see in the forest scares you and it feels like what you fear is reaching for you. The house is a symbol of your inside. That it\'s red tells me that you are angry with something or that you are longing for love, from yourself perhaps? The house is also by half fallen apart, can it be so that you feel emotionally drained and tired? Like you are going to fall apart? The door to the house is locked, the door to your inner self and to your emotions. Do you have feelings that you are trying to ignore or hide? The little child represents you and your inner child, and you are asking for help. Are you still carrying some fears from your childhood that still keeps you from living the way you want? If you want this dream to go away you have to unlock the door, both in real life and in the dream. With love /Queen of Cups ”

She sat and stared at the computer screen. Tears starting to run again. It felt as if someone had looked in to her soul and red it out aloud for her. All those feelings she had tried to push away for so long now started to come up again, and it scared her. She ran in to the bathroom and attacked the make up box. More mascara, more rouge, the dark red lipstick she only used for emergencies and really hot dates, tons of pink eyeshadow and to finish, more mascara. The girl in the mirror stared back at her. Blaming her for being hidden behind too much makeup. More tears that ruined her wall and exposed her naked face. The girl in the mirror seemed to fade away and left place for a young boy. A teenage boy with traces of mascara running down his cheeks. She closed her eyes, hard.
“No!”
When she opened her eyes again the boy was gone and she saw her own reflection in the mirror again. A girl. A teenage girl with traces of mascara running down her cheeks. She took a deep breath and started to wash her face, fighting the urge to look at the mirror.
“Marcy? I\'m taking your brother to the football practice. Your mother will be home in half an hour.”
“Okay dad, see you later!”
She closed her eyes and turned her face to the mirror again. Hoping she would see the face of a girl in it, even though she had no makeup on. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. No boy, just her own sad and naked face. She felt a sting of disappointment.

On the way back to her room she had to pass her brothers bedroom door. She stopped in front of it, wanting to go in there. Wanted it so bad that it scared her. No one would know, she\'d just check too see if he had her My Chemical Romance CD.
“Nothing wrong with that, right?”
She opened the door. The smell of dirty socks hit her, instantly starting to fill up her nose trying to choke her. She was just about to turn around when she saw it, the basket with clean clothes. She walked up to it, gently touching the black sweater on the top. Picking it up. Putting it on. She left the room still wearing his sweater. In her own room she put on her widest pants. Then she turned of the lights and sat down on the floor, crying in the dark.

Someone opened the door and turned on the lights. Terrified she looked up, the disappointment in the mothers eyes made her blush.
“Marcy! I told you to never do that again! You said you\'d never do that again!”
“I\'m so sorry! I didn\'t mean to!”
The door closed with a loud slam behind her fleeing mother.
“I\'m sorry...”
She stood up and ran down after her mother.

She found her in the bathroom putting on more makeup.
“I\'m sorry mum!”
Her mother glared angrily at her.
“You are a girl Marcy! A girl for Gods sake!”
“But I\'m not a girl.”
Her mother gasped loudly.
“Of course you are! Look at you!”
Marcy shook her head.
“I\'ve been hiding behind the makeup you gave me for eight years now. But you can\'t always hide behind mascara mum!”
“You are a girl Marcy. You are my daughter!”
“I can\'t be someone I\'m not anymore. You know as well as I do, I was never a girl.”
He left his mother crying in the bathroom.

The trees seemed to reach for him, but this time he wasn\'t afraid. He saw the red house in front of him, and he smiled. The door wasn\'t locked this time. It was dark and sobbing noises echoed between the walls. The house was dark and filled with old stuff. Toys, clothes, memories and the desperate crying from a child. He followed the crying trough the house, knowing there was no return now. He had to do this. He followed the sounds of the sobbing to a bedroom at the back of the house. He recognized the bedroom as his own, the one he had before they moved to the new house when he was seven. The cries came from the wardrobe. He opened the wardrobe door and looked at the crying little boy with the pink dress who was sitting inside.
“You don\'t have to hide anymore.”