Chapter 1

                                    

                                          
It's always the same dream. It's so real that when I wake up I feel as though I've woken from not so much a nightmare but another reality. I'm shaken as I once again run over the details in my mind, which are as clear as they were the night before. This has now been going on for about a month. I've tried everything from Tylenol PM to natural herbal remedies my Dad found on the internet, anything that will help me sleep through the night without these dreams - or I should say THIS dream as it's always, always the same.
                          
It's morning. I walk into the kitchen, dressed for work in my navy skirt and white shirt, carrying my heels. It looks like spring as the sun is shining through the window over the sink, but I remember thinking it's unseasonably warm for the time of year. I sit down and eat a bowl of Froot Loops whilst waiting for the coffee to finish, then tidy up the dishes and take Dad's meal out of the freezer for his dinner that evening. He's a shift manager at Raven's Tire Factory where we both work and he insists on eating dinner at 5pm on the dot every night. Not that I blame him, I would too if I had to be at work by 4:30am every day. I put the meal on the counter. It's chicken risotto - not his favorite but it's all we have left.  
                          
Running late as usual, I pour coffee into my travel mug, grab my keys and pet our dog, Willis, as I race out the door to my little blue Dodge. The dream follows this exact same sequence every night. 
                          
I get into my car and on the passenger seat next to me is a beautiful yellow canary in a small wooden cage. I smile to myself as if I were expecting it to be there waiting for me. The canary is sitting on its perch chirping loudly and I whistle a lullaby my Grandmother used to sing to me to encourage it to keep singing. Putting the key in the ignition, the engine rattles awake and slowly moves into a steady purr. As I put my seatbelt on a sharp pain moves through my ribcage and I begin to feel my chest tightening. I cough a few times but that seems to makes it worse and it now feels like someone has me in a bear hug and I can't get enough air. I take off my belt and loosen a few shirt buttons trying to relieve any extra pressure that may be aiding this tight, heavy feeling but my throat begins to slowly close up and I begin to choke. Covering my mouth while attempting to breathe through my nose, my throat begins to burn so badly that it hurts more to take in air than it does to deprive myself. 
                          
Desperately gasping for breath I try to wind down the window but the handle is jammed and won't budge. I turn the fan on in my car but the air has become so thick I have almost stopped breathing altogether. I look over at the canary to see its body lying stiff and lifeless on the bottom of the little wooden cage. In a last attempt I try to push open the car door but I'm losing consciousness and just before I slump over the steering wheel I look up to see a silhouette of a man. It's at this moment, here in the dream when I see him, that all time seems to stand still and even though I'm slowly falling forward I have time to take in his unmistakable presence.  
                          
He's standing in front of my windshield, no more than six feet from my car. I can't see his face but I know him; it's as though I have known him my entire life. He's wearing a large cowboy hat with some sort of crest or badge fastened to the side like a mark of authority. He doesn't come any closer or try to help me. He simply nods his head the way a sad relative does when an elderly loved one finally passes away after a long battle with looming death. He waits and watches and just as I close my eyes for the last time I hear him snigger as he fades into nothing. 
                          
And then... I wake up.  
                          
Believe it or not, waking up and coming into the land of consciousness is the worst part of these dreams. I jolt up out of bed with a scream, my hands tightly gripping my throat, my eyes frantically scanning around the room to see where I am; Heaven? Hell? Still in my car choking down mystery fumes? Nope, still safe in my room. I sit up and lean over, taking in huge breaths between scared sobs. I'm shaking and although I have been sweating so much that my sheets are soaked, I'm shivering and my teeth begin to chatter. I look to the clock and sure enough it's always just ticking over to 3:05am and I count the seconds; one, two, three...