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Dear Journal,

I had a dream last night. It was almost like I was reliving the day my mother died.

I was finishing up my school project and realized I needed blue felt for the presentation board. It wasn't a necessity but it would tie in with my ocean theme. My board was going to look the best and I was going to get an A.

Mum was tired- she'd been working all day but I never asked for much and a few pieces of blue felt was all I needed. So she got up and put on her shoes and coat, muttering the whole time things she thought would make me laugh-pretending to be worked up about the ordeal. I wasn't in the mood.

"Mum. Please just go and fetch me some blue felt. I need it to look the best." And as she left the flat, I didn't even say goodbye or look at her. Not even a glimpse.

And do you know, I was mad at her. She had been gone for over an hour. It should have only taken 10 minutes. I rang her cell and left a message.

"Mum. Why are you taking so long? This needs to be submitted soon. Call me back or at least hurry it up." I was terrible.

10 minutes after I left that message a police officer came to my door and told me my mother was dead.

The dream happened just like real life, except for one detail.

Every scene in the dream was filled with tiny blue footprints. The board, the phone, the door.

I already feel guilty for causing my mum's death. How am I to deal with being responsible for baby John too?

I didn't know what to do when I saw that foot. Babies come out head first, everyone knows that.

But with Claire screaming at me, asking me if I saw the head I didn't know what to do. The baby's leg started coming out then but it got stuck. And Claire screamed as if she was being burned alive, which I'm sure is what it felt like. The baby wasn't coming out anymore-it was stuck.

"Laura!" Claire shouted and I went to touch the baby's foot but what would I do with it? I looked up at Claire, ready to ask her what to do but her eyes were drooping.

"Claire?! No stay awake! I don't know what to do!" I was sobbing uncontrollably by this time.

I was afraid to do anything for fear of hurting her or the baby, but doing nothing wasn't an option. I went to shove the baby's foot back in so maybe I could try turning it the right way when I heard talking.

I rushed to the door and yelled for help, beating my bloody hands on the door. Then there were footsteps.

"Hello?!" It was dad.

"Dad! Open the door! We're stuck in here and Claire's having the baby!" I'm sure it didn't sound as clear as it is written because I was sobbing but he must have gotten the message because he tried breaking down the door. I took off my gloves and ran to hold Claire's unconcious hand.

I'm not a religious person but I was praying with every bone in my body that God would save Claire. I couldn't lose two mothers.

Everything happened so fast, it's all a blur. I remember being ushered out of the loo into the soggy bedroom where Victoria was crying inconsolably. I think dad carried Claire out to the car but I'm not sure because I was burying my head into Victoria's shoulder.

At some point James drove us to the hospital with Ms. Merwin and dad told us that while Claire would be okay, the baby, a little boy to be named John, was dead.

He took me aside and thanked me for trying to help Claire and that I did a good job. Then he hugged Victoria and everyone continued crying, even Ms. Merwin.

When Claire woke up later that day she told me it wasn't my fault. The doctor agreed.

It seems that everyone is in agreement that I am not to blame. Everyone but myself, of course.

-L

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