The Cursed Reminder

I usually don’t dream, but when I do, they’re violent. There are vicious flames, explosions, screams echoing throughout the area—
or people getting slaughtered.

Though this time…

There was just a tree. A tree as red as blood.
But that wasn’t what I found odd. It was the ominous silence around the field.
It was too quiet. The grass, the night sky, the leaves—
I’ve never experienced a dream so silent before.

I didn’t mind it, of course. It was peaceful, unlike my past dreams.
It’s just… I kept having the same dream over and over again for the past week.
The same bloody tree towering over me, like it was judging me.

I started to dread the thought of sleeping, knowing I’d wake up in that same field once again.

Eventually, I decided to ask a friend about the damn tree, because I was getting tired of the same repeating dream every night.
She started telling me how she views dreams as messages to the dreamer.
She said it could be caused by actions, emotions, past memories—whatever else, honestly.

I didn’t believe it at first. But as the night crept in and the same heavy feeling rose in my chest,
I knew I had to give it a try.

Once again, the tree was there—its bright red colors blurring out the rest.
The tree seemed familiar, somehow.

For the first time, I stepped closer and yelled at it, asking what it wanted from me.
No response.

I asked if it was because of something I did.
No response.

Was it because of how I felt?

Still nothing.

I got frustrated. Angry.
I shouted, demanding to know what it was trying to show me.

Suddenly, everything began to blur.

Then I heard screaming.
And for a second, I thought my usual dreams had returned.

Until I saw who was screaming.

A little girl, on her knees, pushing a woman who lay on the floor, covered in blood.
She screamed like she was the one losing her life.

Then the little girl looked at me.
Her eyes—
They felt familiar.
But I couldn’t figure out where, or more like… when I had seen them before.

She looked at me with eyes full of hatred, but I could also see sadness in them.
She started yelling, blaming me. Saying it was my fault. That I could’ve stopped it.

But I had no idea what she was talking about.

My head started to feel hazy.

Then she suddenly screamed:

“You could’ve stopped our parents from dying!”

And that’s when my mind went dark, and my heart dropped.

How could I have forgotten such a horrible memory?
How could I have forgotten the night of the accident?

That sinking feeling returned. But this time, it was guilt.

The woman lying lifeless on the grass…
was my mother.
And the girl next to her was my little sister.

My breath went uneven. My hands trembled.
There was blood on them.

And when I looked back—
the girl was covered in blood too.
A clear wound visible on her head.

Everything seemed redder than before.
She kept screaming at me, over and over,
“It’s your fault!”

My head kept pounding.

Until I suddenly awoke, gasping like I hadn’t been breathing all night.
Sweat rolled down my forehead.
My alarm had just started snoozing, letting me know it was time to get ready—
despite everything that just happened.

My hands still felt shaky as I got up and headed to the counter to grab my pills.
Then I remembered…
I ran out last week.

I continued with my morning routine.
But the thought still lingered:

What caused that memory to come back so suddenly…?