The shadows shift with your breath. Folding, falling, flying. Chasms in the shadows open, jagged spikes dripping. You gasp, and the shadows turn. The Chasms close, and shapes shift again like paper, and follow you into the hall. You scream, but you can’t make a sound. Like pushing a boulder, sound is impossible. So you run.
They can’t hurt you, you hear. There’s nothing there. They can’t hurt you.
Help, you gasp. Help, someone. But still, nothing.
The shadows grow close, nipping at your heels. They will do you harm. You know this. You have always know this.
You awake, sucking in air. In the corner of your eye, a shadow lurks. And another. And another.
Help, you whisper, and he reaches for you.
Shh. He says. You’re safe.
No, you shudder. The monsters are here.
You’re fine. I won’t let them get you. He wraps his arm around you.
It’s too hot under the blanket. You’re desperate for water. But the shadows are there, with their teeth, waiting.
So you wait. And wait. And wait. You turn, his arms enveloping ever more. The shadows fade, and you shift the blanket. They won’t touch you, for now. And slowly, you realize something. Nightmares are supposed to end when you wake up.