Falling

By Brian Lum

Jesus Christ!

I jolt up from my bed, heart pounding, head spinning and palms sweating. I had been tumbling through the air, feeling certain I was falling to my death. At some point, I thought I could even see clouds.

Where am I?

I look around frantically. I’m in my bed, at my dorm. It’s pitch black. I can hear my roommate snoring and the sounds of kids laughing outside as they stroll past my window. Unfortunately, I also begin to smell weed.

Oh well. The smell of weed isn’t as bad as crashing to the ground. I take a minute to ease myself. Then, with my hand shaking, I turn on my phone and check the time. It’s 1:30 a.m. I take a deep breath and slowly pull my sheets up and shut my eyes again.

I guess I’ll stay like that for a while. After having a dream — no, more like a feeling — like that, it’s going to be a lot harder to fall asleep.

I get that falling feeling from time to time when I go to bed: “hypnic jerks,” as they are called. I’ve heard a theory that the reason why some people get hypnic jerks shortly after going to sleep is because they were supposed to die; the angel who was supposed to carry them off to heaven suddenly dropped them out

Maybe the angel was tired. I guess even as supernatural beings, they aren’t able to escape the daily grind of carrying all sorts of people up and whatnot. I mean, if I had to do that every day while I’m already sleep deprived, I’d rather drop my victim (target?) than stumble and nosedive to the ground myself. Maybe God would reprimand me but oh well, at least I can move straight. I can at least sympathize: I myself am not looking forward to the inevitable nine-to-five, five-day workweek.

Maybe the angel realized they got the wrong guy and suddenly dropped me because they needed to find the correct person before they woke up. It’s kind of crazy to think about. The person nearest to me who died in their sleep that night could have been me, and I just got really lucky that the angel decided to do a double-check.

Or maybe …

Maybe my subconscious knows how much I still want to do. There are so many places I want to go and things I want to accomplish. I can’t graduate college if I’m dead. I might be able to travel to places around the world in spirit, but I can’t eat the food or interact with the people in other countries as a ghost — well, at least not effectively. What if it was my time to go, but my soul put up a struggle?

I settle with that thought. I like it, it’s comforting. I still have a lot of aspirations that I wouldn’t be able to complete in one day. A lot of dreams, if you will. I wouldn’t appreciate it if an angel appeared to put a stopper on them. On that note, I soundly go back to sleep.

By: Anonymous

Dreams are my escape. I crave the moment when I can sleep and drift off into an alternate reality. I dream of crazy things and play out different characters as if I’m in a movie. Sometimes, I’m a billionaire or a child free to do as I please, while other times, I’m a working professional with an established and decorated career. However, I also dream of sinister creatures that haunt me throughout the night, leaving me scared and fearful once I awaken. Regardless of what it is, I embrace and appreciate everything I dream about, both the good and the bad.

As a child, my dreams revolved around the idea of freedom. I longed for a life where I could make my own choices and live independently. I daydreamed about escaping pointless fights, leaving behind friends who treated me poorly and forgetting all about my hometown. Whether it was studying abroad or exploring the world with new friends, being away from home always brought me a sense of liberation.

Now, as an adult living away from my family, I long for their presence. The love and comfort I felt were irreplaceable, and I feel the weight of their absence in every aspect of my life. It’s harder to function nowadays when most things feel like an endless drain. The things that once brought me joy now seem like a burden, and I’m left with nothing but the nightmares that keep me company each night. I dream of being alone, ignored or chased away from the few places where I find peace and comfort. And yet, sometimes, I prefer those nightmares over my current reality.

I find myself wishing for more time to sleep, to dream and to escape. I regret having fantasized about leaving my hometown and forgetting the people who have always been there for me. I miss the simple joy of waking up to familiar faces and to the comfort of home. But most of all, I miss being happy and being surrounded by that sense of familiarity I once hoped to erase.

We’re somewhere in Brooklyn, waiting for an escape room when young Adam Sandler comes by and tries to cut in line. Then, we all go in together. The escape room turns out to be a museum and it’s crumbling over our heads. We race to collect the books and put them back in their rightful location to ensure that the museum doesn’t collapse on us. We make it. I go upstairs and I’m in school. But we’re now in a castle. The top of the museum is a castle.

Instead, we’re in high school in Ireland. We’re doing a school play. I’m watching and I start crying. The play is good. I feel something pull my hair. It’s my friend. She stole my hair clip. I start chasing after her outside. The sky is gray and the sun has set. I start chasing her until she summons the winds and rain and fire and earth from beneath her. I start running back towards the castle while she chases me, spewing fire and earth from her hands. I slam the door before I catch on fire only to see my other friend with my ex-boyfriend. He’s holding her hand and taking care of her. Why didn’t he ever take care of me like that? I can’t watch so I leave and sit outside the classroom. His friend, who is also my friend, comes out to check on me. He lets me cry on his shoulder while I wonder why I couldn’t be loved by him like that. And then I wake up.