I'm...falling...I'm...

It’s the falling I hate the most.  The lack of control, the feeling of helplessness, and, most of all, the crash at the end. And there it is.

I pop to my feet and brush myself off. Where am I? Oh. Of course. Why did I bother to even wonder. I’m always here. Rubble. A half collapsed building. New York.

Sound thuds loudly around me. I am soaking in it like a bath. I try to run but the sound is so thick I can’t make progress through it. I move in slow motion, desperate to get to the other side of the wall. If I could just get there maybe this time it will be different. Why can’t I move? I have to move! Please let me move!

I awaken suddenly, my heartbeat pounding loudly in my ears. I gasped for air before slumping back into the bed.

My aunt bursts into my room, concern displayed all over her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” It’s not a lie. I had a dream. I’ll live. Unfortunately.

“Same dream?”

I might as well be honest. “Yes.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Patrick. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. There’s nothing anybody can do. Thank you for asking.”

She nodded, looking sad and concerned as she does so. “I hope you can fall back to sleep.”

“Thank you.” Then she leaves me be.

I hope I can fall back to sleep as well. Even the whiskey doesn’t stop the dream, stop me from going back there. That place where I went to hell.