It was just like the first time, only they pulled the straps a little tighter, or maybe that was his imagination playing tricks on him. Dr. Engel was there with an uncharacteristic smile painted carefully across her face. He knew she wanted to reassure him, but the facade of a smile made him feel even more uncomfortable. 

He didn't want to do this again. 

But he would, just to see. Maybe it didn't always work the first time. He wanted to give the treatment a fair shake. So he averted his eyes when the nurse stabbed him with a needle. He looked at the clock, noting the time. 

6: 13. He hoped it would be over by 7, and then it would be time for bed, for sleep, for unconsciousness once again. 

The IV with the microdose of ketamine was attached. As the fluid entered his veins, it felt cold, and he couldn't stop shuddering. 

"Relax," said Dr. Engel. "Be open to this experience. Stop fighting it."

He looked at her faux smiling face and closed his eyes. Instead of the desert, he felt the chill of wind breathing on his skin, raising goosebumps on his arms and legs. All around him were towering trees enclosing him in a frighteningly dark forest. It was day out, but the only clue was a ray of sunlight fighting its way through the branches here and there. He could see enough to walk through the tree trunks, but only a few feet ahead of him. He spread his fingers out and let his hands lead him through the dark. His knuckles scraped against one of the trunks, and he didn't have to look to know that it drew blood. He let out a sharp cry and sucked on his fist. 

Brett heard something on the ground, a scrambling, and he became aware of small creatures running along and past him, toward the same nothing destination. He crouched down for a better view at the things, and his heart turned to ice when he realized what they were.

Mice. White mice. 

They'd burned during his previous trip. What were they doing here? Trying to exact their revenge? On and on the river of mice flowed around him. One got under his pants leg and started crawling up his calf. He shook it out in disgust. Started walking again. 

He thought he heard the trees whispering. "You shouldn't be here. Leave. Now."

He didn't disagree, but the decision had been made. He had to see it through. 

Stumbling on a mouse, he nearly fell to his knees but caught himself just in time. 

Through the darkness, he saw a light shining ahead. A destination, perhaps where the mice were running. He quickened his step and was almost certain that the mice had picked up the pace as well. They became a white blur with no individual characteristics, just a writhing snakelike beast with no beginning or end. He became so enraptured by this thought that he was almost upon the source of the light before he stopped and tried to discern what the shape was before him. 

It was more fucking mice, climbing a tree that reached toward the heavens. They took up every inch of the bark, overlapping each other, defying gravity. He didn't understand how the tree had enough area to allow for so many mice, no matter how tall the tree was. Something fell on him, and he brushed it off his shoulder. It was a tiny mouse, and as soon as it hit the ground, it joined the rush of its mates right away. The noise was less disturbing than hearing them burning to death, but the sheer numbers of mice squeaking was a soundtrack from a nightmare. 

Suddenly another noise cut through the orchestra of mice--a bark. 

A barking dog, a familiar one. 

Could it really be Mooch? 

He turned around and around, looking for his beloved pet. The dog was standing twenty yards away, its snout lifted toward the sky. It was calling for him. 

Tears pricked Brett's eyes. He didn't care about accidentally stepping on the mice anymore. He ran toward his beloved dog, longing to sink his fingers into the dog's fur and feel its tongue lap at his cheek, canine kisses at their best. But something made him slow down and even stop when he was a few yards away.

Mooch had lowered his face, and he was staring at Brett with yellow eyes. His tone shifted to a warning growl. Brett couldn't believe, after all their years together, that the animal would ever threaten him with such a guttural gasp. 

He held his hands out in front of him. "Mooch. Hey, Mooch. It's me. You know me."

Brett's attempt at mitigating the dog's tension didn't help. In fact, it seemed to escalate the dog's growl from anxiety to fury. The dog scratched at the ground in a false start, as if he were going to charge Brett. Foam dripped from the dog's maw, and Brett saw that this was not the dog he'd loved since he was a boy. Something had gone wrong, and he was now the bane of Mooch's existence. When the dog leapt from his position, Brett didn't hesitate to spin on his heels and run back the way from which he came. 

Suddenly he was one of the white mice trying to get up that tree. His shoe ground one of the poor creatures into mush, but he managed to get a hold enough to put his weight on that foot. He stretched his hands to the heavens and sliced through the mice to find the bark underneath. It was hell, with the creatures crawling all over him, his face, even brushing against his mouth and eyes, but he managed to get far enough that Mooch couldn't reach him with his snapping jaws. Instead, he started ripping at the mice, teeth crunching the tiny bodies as they scurried to get away. 

Brett squeezed his eyes tight as he tried to pull himself out of the nightmare, but he couldn't escape. "Dr. Engel! Dr. Engel!" he shouted, his voice going hoarse from the panic. But still, he hung from the tree as his dog devoured the mice below. Brett wept, certain that he'd never find his way out of this hallucination. This is how it would end for him. 

But then, on the wind, he heard a gentle voice, the same one that had promised him that they were in the hospital together. It floated down like a feather and settled softly in his gut. 

"Brett, you have to let go."

He shouted through the chaos. "I can't."

She repeated, "Just let go."

He did what his every instinct screamed not to do and let go.

Though he was only a few feet in the air, he fell for what seemed like forever. There were no more mice shrieking and pulling his hair and skin. Mooch disappeared. 

And when Brett opened his eyes, Dr. Engel was standing there with her clipboard. 

"You did very well," she told him.