The dream is different when I open my eyes.

I stand on a pale beach bordered by chalky white cliffs. Under the open sky, the aquamarine sea murmurs against the shore. Sunshine warms my face and accentuates the flat grey pebbles and pinked shells that pepper the vast expanse of sand. A faint breeze tousles my hair and with it comes the scent of the ocean, salt-tinged and surprisingly fresh, holding none of the rotting fish and seaweed smells I expected. Overhead, seagulls float on the wind, releasing solitary cries.

Facing away from me and toward the ocean is a figure standing ankle-deep in the water. Draped across their shoulders is a cape unlike anything I've seen, so long that it trails in the ocean. The multicolored cloth is interwoven with tiny white seashells and feathers of every color and size: swallow blue and hawk brown and goldfinch yellow. They form a pattern that shifts like the colors of a kaleidoscope, subtly changing as the tide pushes and pulls at the end of the fabric.

The person moves, their hand coming into view as they flick their wrist. A stone skips across the surface of the ocean before a wave catches it and pulls it underwater.

"Hello?" I ask. The figure turns to glance over their shoulder. On their face is a mask shaped like a fox's head, the coloration formed by orange and white feathers clustered together. Two branches are placed beside the ears in an imitation of pronged horns. Under the mask, I can see only their mouth and the curl of their dark hair. 

Their gaze catches mine and for a moment, everything is still.

"You," snarls a booming voice, the sound echoing among the cliffs. The ocean behind the caped figure burbles, and the waves part as the fox-like creature emerges. I take a step backward as its monstrous shadow grows and blocks out the sun. Water pours off of its back and around its ears as it rises to its full height, towering above the cliffs that surround us. Its golden gaze burns with anger and it bares its teeth, each pointed tooth large enough to tear me apart in one bite. 

"You caused this," it growls. Its twin tails flick dangerously, like a predator that has cornered its prey. Behind it, grey clouds gather on the horizon and the ocean churns.

My throat is dry. "The cause of what?" I ask, swallowing.

"This!" it howls, lifting a paw and splashing it down into the sea. "This despicable quiet!" The fox shakes its head and takes a step backward. The wind picks up, howling among the cliffs and throwing stinging sand into my face. Thunder crackles among the clouds that fill the sky.

"You will both regret this," the fox hisses. Confusion flickers through me and my gaze drops to the masked figure. Does 'both' include them?

Behind the fox looms a tsunami, its peak reaching far above the fox's height. I step backward and my back hits the cliff wall behind me. With a roar, the wave slams down on us, crushing me in its grip and forcing water into my mouth and lungs. Pain erupts in my chest as I struggle for air, but I am far beneath the surface and I am drowning . . .

~*~

"Finn? Finn, are you listening?" Sean asks, rapping a knuckle against the cafe table.

I blink and look up from my sketchbook. On the page is a close up of a fox mask and a long, intricate cape. I can't properly pin down the cape and its subtle, shifting patterns, but the mask is shaded in, complete with its feathers and pronged horns. The face behind the mask is a mystery. 

"Sorry," I mumble. Ever since I woke up, I've felt echoing pangs of pain in my chest, as if there is still seawater in my lungs. My mind's been preoccupied with the dream — and the fact that my dorm is in need of repair. One of the walls is wet and peeling paint, and the person who lives on the floor below me complained of water dripping from their ceiling. Maintenance took a look and declared the cause a leaky pipe, but no one knows where the saltwater smell is coming from. Mold, perhaps.

"What were you saying?" I ask.

"I was thinking," Sean says, playing with the drawstring of his hoodie, "We should do something this weekend to celebrate finishing midterms."

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet," he murmurs, "But I think we both need the break. Midterms hit us hard."

I grimace as I recall my midterm grades. They aren't terrible, but they're no where near what I'd hoped, and at this rate, I'm never going to achieve the high grades I used to get in high school. With the class material becoming more difficult, I worry about final projects and exams. 

Sean doesn't seem very happy with his results either, and midterm season has left its mark on him. Over the past two weeks, he's grown bags under his eyes. I've seen him nodding off in our morning class at least twice this week, and I think he's been quieter as well. Usually, I am the one who has to muster up energy to be social when we're around other people, but lately, Sean's been doing it, too. He looks exhausted.

"A break would be nice," I agree, but looming assignment deadlines press forward in my mind and I falter. The words are bitter as I say them: "But we have that English assignment due Monday."

Sean's face falls. "Right," he murmurs, and lowers his gaze to his papers, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at the homework before him. He scratches out what he'd written and sighs.

Guilt fills my chest at his crestfallen expression, but I turn my focus back to my sketchbook. I need another drawing for an art assignment, so I fill an empty page with white cliffs towering over an pale beach scattered with grey stones. The scene is nothing like the the Oregon coast where I grew up, where the wet sand sucks at your feet and the wind batters your face with sea spray. 

Sean mumbles something that I don't hear. I lower my pencil and look up. His eyes are clouded and unfocused, their color near black in the evening light. 

"Is everything all right?" I ask, concerned.

Sean nods, but his expression is sickly. "Yeah, I'm — I'm gonna take a walk." He rises and heads out the door, leaving his bag and papers behind. Flowers bloom in his footsteps, pansies and larkspurs and daffodils that wilt once he disappears, crumbling to ash and fading away.

I don't know what to do. Do I follow him? Do I give him space? Comforting someone has never been my strong suit. I agonize for a long moment, snatching glances at the door in hopes that he'll come back, then I stand and pack our things. I can't study if I'm worried about him like this, and if he doesn't want me around, then at least I'll know to leave him alone. 

Shouldering both backpacks, I consider where Sean would go. Outdoors, I think, somewhere on campus, in a spot that is a good distance away from others. I push past the cafe doors and head out to search.

The evening is cool and quiet, and the fading sun hides behind the mountains, staining the sky orange and painting the campus in golden tones. Against the blushing sunset, the mountains are black and ominous. My shadow stretches over the green as I search, crisscrossing over the pattern of grass and walkway.

I find Sean sitting on a bench at the edge of campus nearby the forest, the spot partially hidden by hazel and blue spruce. He sits hunched over with his elbows on his knees and as I get closer, I can see that he's buried his face in his hands. Dread curls in my gut, thick and black as tar.

"Sean?" I ask gently as I set down our backpacks. Sean looks up, hands pulling away from his face, and fixes a bleary gaze on me.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice strained. 

It's awful to hear him like this. I swallow and search for the right words to say. "How — how are you feeling?" 

Sean lets out a breathless laugh. "Not great, honestly." His knee bounces as he pokes himself in the chest with his fingers. "My lungs feel like they're not getting enough air, and my heartbeat's racing. I kind of want to throw up." He must see the alarm on my face because he gives a faint smile. "I'm trying not to."

"I can give you some space —"

"No." Sean grasps my sleeve, and I'm pinned in place. "No — stay."

"Okay." I sit in the open space next to him. Sean lets go and turns away from me, his breathing shallow. Hesitantly, I place a gentle hand on his back, and Sean goes still at my touch. 

"Close your eyes and try taking deep breaths," I say, dredging up an old memory of a yoga instructor giving relaxation techniques. Obediently, Sean shuts his eyes. "Inhale —" I hold my breath for three seconds, feeling a bit silly all the while, "— and exhale." He follows my instructions and after repeating the cycle a few times, his breathing seems more even.

I pull back my hand and let it rest in my lap. "Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

There is a long, stretched-out silence before Sean breaks it. "Well, I guess first of all is that my mum's in the hospital." My gut plummets. He picks nervously at his nails  as he speaks. "She fell and broke her leg three days ago. It's not too serious, but it's just her and my sister at home 'cause Dad is a pilot overseas. So there was this big scramble for my aunt to take time off to help out for a bit." Sean lets out a sigh. "Then I did really badly on midterms. I need to do at least as good if not better on the final, or I'll fail the whole course, so there's that. And then there are the dreams." 

A shiver travels down my spine. Sean is oblivious to the effect his words have on me. He continues, "I've been having strange dreams ever since I came here. Like — I've had weird dreams before, but these are really weird." His knee bounces and his voice grows more agitated. "I haven't been able to sleep, and I can't concentrate in class. And — I dunno, I'm worried about my mum, and my grades, and —"

"Sean." I take his right hand and pull it away from his left. His fingers have picked at the cuticles to the point where they're bleeding. Now I realize why he wears band-aids on his fingers. 

Sean looks at me with shame and worry swirling in his eyes. "Sorry," he chokes out, and I shake my head. There's nothing he needs to apologize for. 

I want to keep him grounded. I want him to know I'm here, and he doesn't need to hide what he's feeling. I have never been good with words, but I try my best.

"It's going to be okay. I'm sure your aunt will take good care of your mum and sister," I say, staring at the pinpricks of blood on his fingers. "I can't say I know what you're feeling, but I know what it's like to not be able to sleep and to have weird dreams." And, I think, to have those dreams haunt me even in the daylight. "I hope you know that you can talk to me anytime, and I'll help out in any way I can. And — everything will work out." 

Sean lets out a shaking breath and nods. I release his hand. 

"When I want to relax," I murmur, "I listen to music. Here." I fumble for my earbuds and hold one out to him. He takes it, and I scroll through my songs and hit play. Music streams in, muted and slow, and the quiet melody pulls my heartbeat into its rhythm. These are the songs I listen to when I lie awake in dark, unable to sleep as I waste away the hours.

Sean leans in, his shoulder bumping against mine, and I realize that he's watching the video that accompanies the music. I shift, adjusting the phone so we can both see. We sit there for a long time, burning through my playlist. When a song without video comes up, Sean closes his eyes and focuses on the melody and lyrics. The dying sunset shades him in reddish-gold and for a moment, I see daisies flowering in his hair, pinpricks of white and yellow woven among his curls. 

The sun disappears and plunges the campus into twilight. My phone pauses the audio to complain about its low battery, and the notification pulls us out of our reverie. Sean holds out the earbud and I take it.

"Thank you," he says. He is quieter than I've ever seen him, but he's calm, and his eyes are clear. There is a moment of contemplative silence, then Sean murmurs, "If you can't sleep, or if you're up early, I go for walks in the morning. You're welcome to join me."

"Sure," I say. His brow knots as if my answer was unsatisfactory.

"I'm up at seven," he says.

"Okay."

Sean cards a hand through his hair and lets out a breath. "I'll — I'll see you tomorrow morning?"

This, I know the answer to. My mouth curves in a smile.

"Yes."

~*~

Hey dreamers, thanks for reading! What are your thoughts on this chapter? On Finn's dream? Tell me your speculations!

Also, what are your favorite songs to relax to? Comment them here!

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