Unusually, dreams aren't something that I have very often. When I sleep, most of the time I just sleep, and nothing happens between me going to bed and waking up in the morning. That doesn't mean I have never had a dream before; I definitely have, and they have all been strange, vivid ones that I can remember easily. But I like them, and I have always been interested in dream meanings. However, they never make much sense, and I can't usually put my dreams into words, so even though they are fascinating I have never been able to explain a dream.
     Nightmares are just as interesting. You may think they are exactly the same as normal dreams, and I agree, but I always wonder why our minds come up with things that scare us. The only dream that has scared me wasn't really a nightmare, but the events that followed it certainly were. That's why it feels odd to remember that the day before they all began, I was doing something as normal as going with Amanda to pick Charlotte up from the gym. In fact, to be more specific, we were fifteen minutes late.

     "It's that way," I told Amanda, pointing down the road to our left. I could tell she didn't know the route, but she was convinced that she knew where we were going.
     "I know, I've been there. Once," she said, turning the car.
     "Have you?"
     "Of course! Charlotte showed me around it when she joined. Twice, actually. I think."
     "It's down the first road to the right," I said, pointing again.
     "You don't need to point. I can see, Evie."
     "Y-you just drove right past it!"
     "That was it? I thought it was just an alleyway!"
     She reversed the car and turned back down the street toward the gym, looking both ways to find it. Just as I had predicted, Charlotte was stood outside the entrance, pointing angrily at her watch.

     Charlotte and Amanda are my two mothers. I call them by their first names because it is less confusing when talking to people, and they don't mind it if I do it around them. They adopted me as a baby just after they married, and since I'm the only student at my school with a family like that, everybody knows me. And my mothers are just as easy to recognise; Amanda being almost six foot four with blue hair and Charlotte always wearing one of her brightly coloured exercise outfits. This has occasionally lead to people teasing me; my parents are weird, they're the same gender, I'm adopted and I have a "boy's haircut." The last one is the most stupid, because surely short hair isn't something only boys have to have?

     Charlotte had been going to the gym almost ever since I could remember, so it was surprising that her own wife didn't know how to get there. Confusingly, though, quite a few of the other members recognised her.
     "Hi Amanda!" two women said at once. An elderly man also started to say something to her, but Charlotte butted in.
     "How does it take so long to get here?" she said in a tone that was quiet but clearly furious. "We live less that ten minutes away!"
     "I had to pick Evie up from school first!" Amanda protested.
     "The school's even closer to home! And Evie didn't have to come, did she?"
     "Well, you wanted to come, didn't you?" she asked me, hoping I would go along with her excuse.
     "Sure! I forgot to greet you, though." I hugged Charlotte, who momentarily forgot that she was mad.
     "Hi Evie. How was school?"
     "Not bad." That was my stock answer, since nothing much had really happened at school.
     "Well, let's head back home," Amanda suggested, walking back to our car.
     "Yeah, just try to get there on time," Charlotte added.

     Once we arrived at home, there wasn't much to do. I had no homework to do, or revision, so I just sat watching TV with my mothers. I don't remember what we watched, since this part of the day wasn't significant in any way. Although, thinking about it, I should have used my spare time for something more productive than sitting on a sofa for four hours. We even ate dinner while sitting there there, but it was only a salad that Charlotte had made.
The interesting part, the dream, came afterwards.

     "I should go to bed, I've got school tomorrow," I said, yawning halfway through.
     "It's Friday, honey," Charlotte said, eating a banana. "You can stay up."
     "I'm feeling tired, though. I don't want to sleep in."
     "It doesn't matter if you sleep in! There's no reason to get up on a Saturday!"
     Amanda leaned forward so she could see me, but I could have sworn that her voice turned into my voice. "If you want to go to bed, Evie, go ahead." I hesitated, deciding that I must have been imagining it, before standing up and going upstairs to get ready for bed. All this involved was getting changed and brushing my teeth, and I was in bed less than ten minutes later. I was still thinking about Amanda sounding like me when I fell asleep, which probably helped in creating my dream.

     I sat up, suddenly back downstairs on the sofa. The TV was still on, and Amanda was asleep next to me. But something about her wasn't right. She didn't have the same clothes on, and her hair was no longer blue, or short, but its natural length and light brown colour. And she seemed taller than usual. The coffee table was covered in chocolate wrappers and empty cake boxes, which was unusual since nobody in my family ate that much junk food. I left Amanda on the sofa and made my way upstairs, but the whole house seemed to have grown; each stair was taller than normal, and they seemed to go on for ages.
     Upstairs was completely different. Charlotte's gym equipment was gone, the wallpaper had changed (but was oddly familiar) and there were toys strewn about the corridor. I decided to check my room, which had different wallpaper, carpet and furniture. My desk was gone, replaced by a second bed that looked more like a cot, and I realised that my bed was the same. In the mirror on my wardrobe I caught sight of my reflection; I was a toddler, around three years old again, and had straight hair neatly cut down to my shoulders.

     "Psst, Evie!" came a voice that sounded like mine. I looked around until I found the source; another girl, identical to me, stood in the second bed and smiling. "I've been meaning to talk to you!" she said, climbing out of the bed.
     "Who are you?" I asked, trying to think of a polite way to greet the stranger.
     Her smile faded a little. "I had a feeling you wouldn't remember me. I am your twin sister, Phoebe."
     "You mean I'm not an only child?"
     "Nope, you've got a sister. I can't believe I'm actually finally talking to you!"
     "You've been trying to talk to me for a while?"
     "Of course! Ever since I died I've been trying to figure out how to contact you! In fact, this is only my first method. I've..."
     "You died?! How?" I didn't fully believe it, and reminded myself that it was a dream.
     "I think you're waking up. I'll tell you another time. Bye!" She waved at me even though I was right in front of her.

     Phoebe faded out of view, and I was back in my bedroom, which was normal again. Rubbing my eyes, I looked around the room, and I spotted something at the end of my bed. A toy, which had been kept in a box in my wardrobe for years.