The Wrong Amount of Light

The fever dreams get you sooner or later. It took a while for them to kick in, but now they’re in full swing. The sand stretches in every direction, the sun floats maddeningly above, and your feet dissolve into a dull stinging roar.

I blinked and there was water everywhere. I was in a pool, back home. Inflatable camels and palm trees all around me. I had a huge drink in my hand with a ridiculous, tiny umbrella. I could smell the sugar and the alcohol as I lifted it to my mouth, tilted my head back.

Sand poured out of my hand and into my throat. I doubled over, coughing violently. I didn’t have enough spit in my mouth to get all the sand out. I struggled forward, grimacing and playing with the grit on my tongue.

I was in the middle of the ocean and it was storming. The waves were mountainous and I could barely keep my footing on my raft. The wood was slippery. I was in the trough between two looming walls of water, then one of them rushed towards me. I fell, arms flailing, into the chaotic swirl.

Sand again. I couldn’t breathe this time. The coughing wouldn’t stop.

A stream. Water gently rippling by me. Trees overhead. Sunlight glanced through the swaying leaves. The rocks underneath me were warm, maybe from the sunlight. They seemed to be moving, slowly giving way. I was already underwater by the time I realized I was sinking into the riverbed. The rocks closed around me, boxing me in. Everything went dark.