Shannon wakens from another fitful sleep, plagued with semi-conscious states, and colourful bouts of vivid dreaming. The only time this frustrates her is when she is unable to return to her dreams, continue the story, but then they carry on in the ink of her pen, and she finds momentary solace in this.
She laughs quietly to herself, more of a chuckle, at the contents of her nights dream. The meaning so obvious to her, she feels like a cliché, but the smile fades on her lips as that cold chill returns to her bones.
She was poised in a life raft, somehow attached to a spiraling building, a part of some futuristic cityscape, cast in a gloomy purple hue. Below her and the raft there was a great open plain. The vibrations began lightly, slowly growing until the plain was filled with a stampede of albino moose. As the roar grew louder, her raft began to deflate, and she tried desperately to cling on. She suddenly found herself sprawled on the ground, only moments ago below her, before the approaching hooves, intent on trampling her frail body.
This is when she woke, in a confused state of fear and enlightenment.
She finds herself mumbling an apology to the moose, as she walks to the bathroom, turning on the shower. She knows she’s done nothing to offend it directly, but as a part of the greater whole, she can’t help but feel guilty.
The heat of the steaming shower helps her to forget about this guilt, as she lies down in the fetal position, trying to imagine nothingness, trying to float. She wakes up an hour early every day before work, just to practice her floating.
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