When I was younger, I used to frequently have one dream. I remember myself running around some annoyingly huge house, with too many corridors, rooms and doors, totally confused by the abstruse architecture of an odd building I have happened to be in. I have no idea where I am and how could I ever get in here from my nice, sweet bed. The only thing I clearly realize is I have to find my family somewhere in this jungle of never-ending walls.

The turning point of a dream is when I realize the building is on fire. I have not yet found anyone of my family, and yet I start to smell smoke and feel how the air is getting hot and how the rooms are getting stuffy. I can’t stop however, since now I have no time to dawdle. I observe neither windows to let the fresh air in, nor doors to escape from the burning trap.

My lungs are now felt with smoke; I can see nothing because my eyes are watering badly. However, I keep on running, since I feel strongly like somewhere behind a smokescreen someone I am looking for is hidden.  I feel extremely tired, my eyes hurt badly, I can only observe the chaotic flares surrounding me like thousands of snares. They are getting inevitably closer.

Never finding anything and anyone I has been searching for, I wake up in a cold sweat, with evident signs of crying on my face and pillow. I finely feel relieved, since I realize it all has just been a terrifying dream.

I used to see this nightmare repeatedly, and it turned out to be a true torture to me. Fortunately, now I do not see it anymore, but I still recall it as one of the most frightening dreams I have ever had. Now, when being older and able to take a sober view of the nightmare, I believe it to be an embodiment of my greatest fear, which is the one of losing my family and lacking responsibility to protect it from all kinds of troubles.