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I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding. I was dreaming about being chased again. I was crying out for help, but no one was willing to jump in and save me. In fact, they would try to get in my way. They were tripping me, telling my chaser where I washiding, and doing everything in their power to slow me down and get me caught.
I get up and do what I usually do when I can’t sleep. I pace the little walkway between bunks. It helps to burn off some of my nervous energy and has the bonus effect of burning some calories.
I’m doing my third lap of the bus when the curtain to Wes’s bunk opens.
“Abbey?” He asks softly.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Kind of, yeah. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Lie or honest?”
“I had a bad dream.”
“About?
“I was being chased.”
“That sounds awful.”
“Now I can’t sleep.” I say softly.
“Come here.” He lifts his blanket up so I can slide in with him.
I pause for a second. I’m extremely aware I’m not wearing a bra now, but the want to be comforted by him was overwhelming. I crawl into his bunk. He is just wearing boxers. He lays flat on his back, closer to the wall. I lay on my back next to him. He puts his arm above my head, letting his hand rub my forehead.
“Who was chasing you?” He asks.
“It kept changing. Sometimes it was an ex, others it was my mother, and sometimes it was just a faceless mass.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You can wake me up anytime.” He comments, still rubbing my forehead. It feels good. It feels relaxing.
He rolls over on his side. His other hand takes my hand and flattens it to the bed. My heart skips a beat. He starts to rub circles on my palm.
“I have this recurring dream that I’m on stage, and all my teeth fall out.”
“They say that means you fear losing control.”
“Yeah? What do they say about being chased?”
“Anxious about something.”
“What are you anxious about?”
“Everything.”
“Hmm. How can I help?” He questions, rubbing up my arm slowly.
“I don’t know. This is helping.” I say, feeling my heart rate lower.
“I’m glad.”
