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It was September 23, 1997. It seemed like a typical night as nineteen-year-old Laura Davis said good night to her parents. She�d be going off to college in a matter of weeks. She was planning on majoring in English. As a child, Laura had loved reading and writing poetry. Her life was going according to plan. Her mother, Linda, and her father, Richard, were behind her every step of the way. So, as Laura closed her eyes and fell asleep that night, she was happy.
That was ten months ago. Ten months and fifteen days to be exact. It was August 7, 1998 now, and the new version of a typical night for Linda and Richard Davis. They no longer said good night to their daughter because she was no longer there, and it wasn�t because she was at college. As a matter of fact, no one knew where she was. That night, September 23, 1997, was the last time she had been seen.
The following morning, Linda had gone into Laura�s room to wake Laura up for work, only to find that the bed was empty. Together with her husband, Linda searched the house from top to bottom for a note, or anything to give them a clue regarding their daughter�s whereabouts. There was nothing to find. Laura was gone. Linda and Richard called the police. After a search of the house, the police could give Linda and Richard no more information then what they already knew. The police thought Laura must have just left.
�But her car is here!� Linda had cried. �So are her keys! And all of her things!�
�There�s no sign of a struggle,� the officer had said, �Your daughter can�t have been kidnapped. She has to have left on her own.�
They all knew that was impossible. The fact is the police were just as stumped as Linda and Richard. Laura wasn�t in the house, no doubt about that, but the doors and windows were all locked and everyone�s keys were there. How could Laura have gotten out with the door locked? How could she leave through a window and lock it from the outside? Even though they both thought it was futile, Linda and Richard waited the necessary day and filed a missing persons report. Ten months had passed by now, and still they had heard nothing.
Linda recounted that fateful day as she went to sleep on the night of August 7, 1998. The nightly dreams of her daughter had subsided about five months ago. That is, until that night. Linda had an odd dream. A girl was running through the darkness. It took Linda a while to realize it was Laura. The only light was a dim white one on her face. She looked frightened and panicky, running as though being chased, gasping desperately for breath, pushing tree branches out of her way�
Linda awoke with a start, sweating and breathing uncontrollably, as though she�d been running herself. She gained a sense of composure after a minute or two. With a deep breath, she looked over at the alarm clock on the night table. It read 6:03 am. Might as well get up, Linda thought. Richard was already awake. She went downstairs to join him for breakfast.
The day was Saturday, and Linda and Richard were making plans for their day.
�What would you like to do today?� Richard asked, taking a bite of cereal.
�Doesn�t matter,� Linda replied emotionlessly, not touching her breakfast.
�We can go visit your parents,� Richard suggested. �We haven�t seen them in a while.�
�Doesn�t matter,� Linda repeated. She couldn�t for the life of her get that dream out of her head.
�What�s the matter? You seem preoccupied,� her husband said, slightly concerned.
�Just this dream I had,� she replied flatly.
�About what?�
Linda paused, uncomfortable. They still had some difficulty talking about their daughter.
�About Laura.�
Richard said nothing. The subject was awkwardly dropped. Linda and Richard remained quiet for the rest of the day. They both became so detached-depressed, even-that they didn�t leave the house that day.
That night, Linda had the same dream. As a matter of fact, she had the same dream every night for the next two weeks. Although she was terribly bothered by the dreams, she didn�t mention them to her husband again.
After those two weeks, the dreams became more vivid. Linda began to notice a sound, almost like that of waves crashing. She began to notice plants, like those in a jungle, surrounded her daughter�s shadowy form. The dreams haunted her, filling her mind and distracting her from her work. Linda even began to dread going to sleep. She tried sleeping on the couch once, just to see if that would end it. The sight of poor Laura�s face, so frightened and helpless, broke Linda�s heart more than she realized. The fact that she had no idea what had happened to Laura began to eat away at her again.
Linda rarely ate, and always seemed tired and irritable. Richard began to notice.
�Are you OK?� he asked his wife one afternoon. �You haven�t been yourself lately.�
Linda just sat and stared into space, the hollow look that her eyes had taken on in the past few weeks even more prominent at that moment.
�Answer me, please,� Richard insisted, �I�m worried about you.�
�I�m fine,� Linda said quietly and calmly. Her husband didn�t buy it for a second but decided not to push the matter. He knew Linda would talk when she was ready. That time just happened to be that evening. Linda just couldn�t keep it to herself anymore.
�Richard, I need to talk to you,� she said in a gravely serious tone. �It�s about the dream I told you about a few weeks ago. Do you remember that?�
He hadn�t forgotten. Of course he hadn�t forgotten.
Linda took a deep breath and continued. �I�ve had the same dream every night since then. The same dream! Why is this happening? I just can�t see that look on Laura�s face again! Why won�t it stop?�
Richard didn�t know what to say. He knew he had no answer that would satisfy her.
�I don�t know,� he said with a heavy sigh. �It�s probably because we never found out what happened to her. Would it help to talk about it?�
