I'm sleeping on the couch, sweating. Tossing and turning keeps me in that weird area of consciousness that brings the most intense dreams. I open one eye. The tv is on, Kiley is watching it, the volume is low. I tell her about my weird dream as I brush damp hair off my cheek. My phone is in my other hand and it vibrates. She leans in to watch me check the message. As I unlock the screen, a video feed starts to play. It's all black and red and filmed from an elevated angle. A woman is running through a wooded area and looking behind her, she's quite obviously in a state of hysteria. It's me, it's...me. I'm watching myself run away from something. My heart beats hard in my chest as I try to make sense of what I'm looking at. Kiley is barely there, like a dispersing cloud of smoke. Am I still dreaming? I look at my hands. They are empty and I feel leaves and earth beneath my swiftly moving feet. Small branches lash my skin in passing. I press on to the clearing I can see ahead, knowing nothing. Fresh, cold air hits my face and my last footstep hits nothing. I give in to the fall and close my eyes, arms spread wide. I sit up quickly with one hand on the wall beside me, the other clutching the sheets. I don't move, but my eyes slowly find the door to my room and I know they're watching me. I can hear hushed voices and the tapping of a ballpoint pen on a clipboard.

"Is this behavior uncommon in this ward?" asks the clipboard.

The woman replies "No sir, panic is a basic in a prison."