Martien awoke slowly. He was dreaming that he was trying to open his eyes, but the light was so bright, he had to keep squeezing them shut again. Try as he might, he couldn't open his eyes. They started to water and Martien began to panic. In his dream, his body suddenly became sluggish. He struggled against growing immobility. His panic increased and he strained to lift even a finger. His chest hurt. He tried to scream and found he couldn't even breathe. Move, move, MOVE! he thought.
Martien convulsed in his bed, scissoring his legs into a tangle of sheets and slapping one arm against his night stand. He gasped like he had been drowning and blinked his streaming eyes against the late morning light coming in from the tall windows. Awake, finally, and knowing this day he would be nagged by the feeling that some wordless thing was wrong, Martien wished that you could go home again.
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