A cry muffled by your quilt dies in your throat, as you jerk awake. The dream already fading, makes you nervous. Feeling trapped, you scrabble for the fresh air.
There's a sense of something wrong, even as your limbs flail. Head popping free of the bottom of your bed, you take a deep gulp of the fresh air. It helps clear your head, calm your racing thoughts.
"Oh, Marie." your vague memory of the dream tormentor surfacing. Several things crash into your awareness, the things that are wrong fighting for your attention.
Your lips taste funny... waxy... sticky...
Your hair falling across your eyes... it's too long...
Your body beneath the quilt just feels off...
Catching your reflection in the mirror, your vision jumps into focus.
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