That is the most common thought the comes to mind in my sleep. It's strange; so long has past but in many ways I remain the same, and yet so much has changed.
This slumber, this rest, I have been here so long I may never need to sleep again. I remember things here, though, in my dreams.
The happy days are the best. I remember mother, and father, and sisters, and brothers; they all played with me in the garden. They laughed with me, they cried with me, and the sun was always shining.
The nightmares are scarier, the ones that come after. My brothers called me to run, and left with the shiny swords in their hands. My sisters joined them except for a few who came with me. They were scared; I was too.
Father took me away and ran. I asked him where mother and sisters were; he cried.
The nightmares move fast, so fast I can't see everything. That's okay though, I don't like the nightmares. They always end the same way though; the one called hero cut off father's head, but father came back and stabbed him. Then, father comes to me and places his hand over my face.
The happy memories come back after that, and they last longer. I smile at them.
Something's changed, I realize, as the memories seem to start to fade. The happy ones, and the nightmares, seem to get more blurry. I can feel things again, things I haven't felt since I stopped being able to count my fingers and toes.
I know I'm not too smart, but I feel so old. It's strange, so much has changed in me yet so much has remained the same..
'Who am I?' I wonder.
The answer, in a strange way, does not come from me. It comes from the outside, where I'm going.
"Little one, you are one of us now."