It is all so vivid,
I am certain it is real.

Branches reach through the fog and scratch my arms.
Mud squishes under my bare feet,
and oozes between my toes.
Voices echo behind me.
I don't recognize them,
and tremble with terror.

I know they are after me.
Somehow, I know.
The fright I feel masks all other thoughts and feelings.
I know nothing.
Not my name,
where I am from,
how I got here.

I feel noting but the fear they bring.

Not the irritating poke of the branches.
Not the goose bumps the freezing mist raises on my skin.
Not the musky mud and worms wriggling beneath my feet.

I just feel fear.

They begin to shout,
unintelligibly.
I try to scream,
but choke on the thick fog.

Hands grip my shoulders,
shaking viciously,
threatening to snap my neck.

I awake,
shouting.
My blankets are a tangled mess,
squeezing my shoulders.