Don't Wake Me if I'm Dreaming by J. E. Chaney

meet. My vision changes, nearly taking my breath. I am now seeing into Jack’s thoughts, in the same way the little boy showed me his thoughts, only I can’t control anything I am seeing, I’m only able to watch and wait as if I’m not even present.
    A short distance away, I see two people on the shoulder of the road looking over the guardrail yelling out. It takes a moment before I recognize Vance’s blond hair and voice, and Aimee’s cry. I try to yell out for them, but am unable to make a sound.
    “Scott,” Vance yells.
    “Scott, come to mommy, baby!” Aimee sounds frantic.
    They both call out several times. I realize they must be the little boy’s parents as he runs toward them from my direction. I helplessly try yelling, wanting them to know he is here, running toward them, but nothing happens. A silver car with dark windows rounds the twisting narrow corner ahead. As Aimee and Vance turn to face the road, they notice their son. My heart pounds violently in my chest, helplessly witnessing what I fear will happen next.                                           Aimee screams, darting to grab her little boy from the car’s path. Swerving to miss the boy, I watch the screeching tires slide across the asphalt to a stop, missing Scott by a foot, hitting Aimee instead.
    “Nooooooooo!” Vance yowls as he helplessly watches his wife’s body roll over the car’s hood. Instantly, Vance grabs the boy into his arms, pressing the boy’s face against his chest and darts to Aimee’s side. He sits the boy down and lifts his wife into his arms. The car door swings open, releasing a horror-stricken young man.
    “I didn’t see her. I’m sorry.” He rushes to Vance’s side, placing a hand on Scott’s back, tearfully pleading his sorrow. I am helplessly paralyzed as they grieve over her lifeless body.
    The vision is gone. My body goes limp as Jack grabs my arms to catch my fall. His face turns to a blur, and then all goes black.
    ***
    I shot up in bed, covered in sweat, gasping to catch my breath. Momentarily disoriented and scared, I half anticipated seeing Jack as my eyes adjusted to the streetlight from outside the bedroom window. I felt something poking into my backside, and reached, feeling the gun, placing it on the nightstand. I shed my clothing as I rushed to the bath and turned on the shower, stepping in before the water adjusts to a comfortable temperature.
    Still not having gained my composure from the shockingly cold water or traumatic nightmare, I collapsed against the shower wall, panting, as the water drenched me. I held the shower curtain to keep from toppling over while catching my breath. It’s only a dream, a stupid, fake, irrational, senseless dream . I thought in anger. My thoughts swarmed around Aimee’s body, her son, the silver car, and the man from the forest, reliving the dream in my mind. I had no clue how the guy ended up in the forest, in a tux. I wondered if perhaps he was driving by when the accident occurred and stopped to help. How could he have stopped when none of this ever happened? I continuously strolled through a rollercoaster of emotional bewilderment as I tried to rationalize the dream, but it was senseless attempting to rationalize something that made absolutely no sense and was completely out of my control. I made myself stop the rampant battle of confusion that was in my head. I would have to let it go and pray my dreams would dissolve into a new series. Hopefully something a lot more pleasant, but I’d willingly take on any nightmare that didn’t share the continuous death of my best friend.
    I dried off and dressed, this time in my pajamas. I was determined, come hell or high water, not to return there, to that dream. Within a matter of minutes, I consumed three shots of tequila before swigging from the bottle, sucked the juice of a lime, brushed my teeth, and crawled into bed intending to pass out. It had taken a short time before