I had to have been less than seven at the time, though I don't recall exactly what age I was. All I remember is that I was quite young -- maybe four or five years old.
I had just woken up, and the house was flooded. Water surrounded me, and I felt scared. The water was rising, slowly and methodically. Soon, it was high enough to lift my bed, and I found myself floating upon my bed through water that was freezing to the touch.
I grabbed something nearby to use as an oar, and I rowed outside of my room. It was then that I saw both my father and my mother floating in separate pieces of furniture, being pulled faster and faster by the current beneath the waves. They were asleep, supposedly unaware of the danger they were in, and I felt it to be my duty to save them. I began rowing in their direction as hard as I could.
Soon, I saw a third piece of furniture graced by my uncle Mike -- no sweeter sight had I by then seen! -- and he rowed toward my parents and I, intent upon saving us all.
But then, unexpectedly, my father and my mother started to drift in opposite directions. My uncle and I would have to split up in order to save them from impending doom. "I will go after your father, Eric!" Mike called out to me. "Row as hard as you can to save your mother!"
I nodded to him, strangely unable to speak at the moment(because of fear, perhaps?), and I put my utmost effort into catching up to my mother, who still was beyond my reach by some two or three meters yet.
But then (oh! the agony of retelling it!), without logic and devoid of all sanity, my mother started to drift into a women's restroom! I was horrified! Oh, how I hurried to catch her before she entered, but alas, I was too slow. ... I was too late.
How could I save her now? She had gone into that ultimate of all no-man's lands: the lady's restroom. I was heartbroken. I tried screaming for help, but it was to no avail. Not only did my voice not work, but whom could come even if I did cry out? She was the only female in the house.
I wanted to wail with despair, but the tears would not come, and my voice remained silent. I cried internally until the nightmare was over and I woke up.
I can remember how scared I was, sitting up in my bed that night, thinking upon the horrifying dream I had just had. I can recall wondering why I had not awoken at the scariest part -- why did I have to wait until I had tried to cry but couldn't before I left that dream world?
I was scared, and I was sad.
Since that time, I've had scarier thoughts, and I've had sadder thoughts. But I never again had a nightmare of that intensity.
It was a nightmare that I will never forget.