The night started out simply enough — relax, get comfortable, then go to sleep. His brain had other ideas, though, when he finally got to deep sleep. He was back in Afghanistan with his unit, and they were pinned down inside an abandoned building, being fired on by insurgents. His brain pulled from memory, recounting the encounter in exquisite, perfect detail. Others in his unit — friends, even — were getting taken down. He took a risk, against orders, and pulled them to safety. In doing so, he also managed to get a grenade off in one of their locations, cutting down on the amount of fire they were under. After ensuring they were safe enough for the medevac unit to get to, he headed back to the others. He’d nearly gotten to them, when an explosion rocked the building, and part of it came crumbling inward, pinning him beneath the rubble. He was caught in a tiny pocket — enough for him to sit or possibly squat in, but not much more.
The dream shifted slightly, ensuring that every passing moment spent trapped was noted. Every muted noise in the background, every rock of the building, every breath he made shielded there in the dark. Would he be rescued? Would he die there, alone in a foreign desert, never seeing his friends or family again? It was beyond panic inducing for him, and in his sleep he struggled, getting tangled in the bedding, but not waking up. When the building stopped shaking, and the muted gunfire ceased, he began screaming for help. Muted voices seemed near, so he screamed louder, hoping they were allies. Minutes seemed to slow into hours as the sound of rubble being moved in order to dig him out began, culminating in what felt like days until he was finally rescued. The relief on his captain’s face was everything he needed to begin to calm down.
“Are you alright, soldier?” she’d asked him. All he could do was nod. She turned then and yelled for others to help him up. “We’re being evacuated. The soldiers you pulled away were already picked up, so now it’s our turn. Go, let’s get out of here!” she’d commanded of the unit.
He was checked over with all the other injured once they got back to base, ultimately deemed to be fine. It would be some time before he was able to get a little leave — it wasn’t much, just a couple of days — but it was enough to try to relax. Enough to meet up with his captain outside of prying eyes.
Rather than follow the logical course of the memory, his dream shifted to a more recent endeavor — that of being locked in a box for months while he attempted to awaken. It was a wonder he didn’t go insane over the ordeal. But…maybe he had, and that’s what allowed him to break the barrier holding him back.
This memory did shift, and become something wholly different. He wasn’t trapped in a box, but a crudely made wooden box. Noise sounded from outside the box, and he screamed for help, but it was only met with malicious laughter. Rhythmic thudding hit the coffin he was trapped in, and it took him a few to realize he was being buried alive. Panicking, he worked to break through the coffin lid, but it was proving difficult, and his attempts to save his air were in vain. No one could hear him, and no one was covering for him. In a way, it was like that movie Buried, only he hadn’t been given a lighter or a cell phone. Instead, he was doomed to die alone, potentially to never be found.
Just as he was taking his last breath in the dream, he awoke, having fallen out of bed and hit the floor. The bedding was still tangled around him, but he pulled at them and unwrapped them all from his trapped torso and lower body, before scrambling back and breathing heavily. Chase came over, whining and expressing concern as he nudged his nose under Nick’s hand, trying to comfort him. He put his arm around the dog and leaned into him, burying his face in a fur and doing what he rarely did — he cried. The fear had been very real, and he remembered both moments very well.
He hated the dreams when they came. It wasn’t often, but it was always hard. Before, he used to drink, both to drown out knee pain and the memories. He didn’t have that option now, and didn’t know what to do. Fumbling around for his phone, he looked at the time — 2:27 am. Would anyone even be awake for him to talk to? He scrolled through his contact list, debating. He wasn’t going to burden his sleeping family with this — it was his own private hell. Ultimately.…that left either Ryan, whom should know sooner or later, he guessed; or Alyssa, who was aware of what had happened that day. Sighing, he started to type out a text to see if either of them were awake, then stopped.
Rather than bother anyone, he’d try some light exercise and then a long shower or bath, depending on his knee. Meditate a little, perhaps. A prayer to take the nightmares away, and help him heal. He wasn’t sure who would be appropriate to appeal to, but maybe that would come with the meditation. He’d been bad about his practice since he got back — but maybe now he should get back into it, especially if he was wearing his unicursal hexagram pendant again. After spending more time with Chase, he worked on getting up off the floor finally, making sure to give Chase a treat for being a good helper and taking him outside. While out, he decided to opt out of exercise when he went back in, and just go straight to shower, meditation and prayer.
He spent time in the shower trying to cleanse himself, not just physically but mentally. After, he sat in as comfortable a position as he could manage with his knee being the way it was, to meditate. While he did so, he made a silent prayer, asking for those well-intentioned deities who were so inclined to help him heal, but moreover, as it had only just occurred to him, to protect him the following evening when he went into the den of vampires. When he felt more relaxed, he headed back to his bed, kicking his covers aside, and tried to get more sleep.