In Your Dreams // phan

t h i r t y f o u r

I tried to stay awake, I really did. But my eyes were so sore and my brain was becoming too slow. I didn't want to admit to myself that I was sleepy. I had too much work to do. So I tried to ignore my body when it told me to go to bed for as long as I possibly could.

Which wasn't very long I guess. Because Phil hadn't even come home yet when I collapsed of sheer exhaustion, amidst the mess of pencils and papers on the floor.

When I realised I was dreaming I was annoyed at myself at first, but then my thoughts turned kind to me. Perhaps it was to do with the positive atmosphere always created by Phil's dreams, but I told myself I was allowed to have a break. I told myself that I had an exhausting day and I'd done more than enough work that I deserved a little nap.

And so I forgave myself for succumbing to sleep and lost myself in the dream. Dream Phil was older than I'd ever seen him. I was bad at pinpointing ages but maybe fifteen? Sixteen? Bit scrawnier, fringe longer, but most certainly older than any of the other Phil's I'd seen. An observation also supported by the fact that he was driving.

His dad was sat in the passenger seat; I was assuming it was only a provisional license. I would have guessed he hadn't been driving very long at all by the way his hands rarely ever left the recommended '9 and 3' position and his eyes stayed glued to the road. But then again, present day Phil was just as cautious when driving anyway so that really didn't prove anything.

Both Phil and his dad were humming along to the song on the radio, neither of them really knowing the words. But when the song died and the next one started up, I guess it was one that they both recognised as identical smiles crossed their faces.

I recognised it too. My dad was always a big fan of Neil Diamond, and "Sweet Caroline" was one of his favourites. I actually had some happy memories of my own tied to the song. My dad would sing it loudly around the house in his deep baritone voice and my mum, feigning jealousy, would ask, 'and who exactly is this Caroline you sing of?'

If I had a corporeal body at that moment I would have smiled too, along with Phil and his dad. Perhaps my sleeping body did. I watched as the two sung along, unnecessarily loud, and felt the pure joy that radiated from Phil.

When the chorus came around their volume only increased. "SWEEEET CAROLINE. BA BA BAAAA." Phil's dad started using the dashboard as a drum kit making Phil laugh as he sang. "GOOD TIMES NEVER SEEMED SO GOOD."

"Stop sign," Phil's dad reminded him in between song lyrics, as they approached a main road. Phil nodded and slowly brought the car to a halt, his singing dulling to a mumble as he focused. The road was clear, and Phil was just starting to pull off again when a car came speeding along out of nowhere. No headlights, no warning whatsoever.

Phil was halfway across the road by the time he realised what was happening, at which point time seemed to slow down. I felt the burst of panic explode in his chest as he slammed his foot on the accelerator. He was trying to make it across the road before the car reached him. But he wasn't going to make it.

I knew he wasn't going to make it because I had a sudden hunch about what night this was. I didn't want to be correct, but Phil's age seemed about right.

This must have been the night that he lost his dad.

The oncoming car hit the back of Phil's, and for a split second I was relieved. It only shattered the back windows. Maybe I was wrong about tonight. But the immense force of the collision sent Phil's car spiralling out of control.

I could almost hear Phil's thoughts. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what was happening, his brain was malfunctioning. The car spinning so fast that everything around him became blurred did nothing to help him think. Neither did the sound of squealing tyres, his dad's shouting, or his own senseless screams.

A sharp pain was shooting up his neck too. Whiplash from the impact most likely. But I could tell Phil barely even registered the pain. There was too much terror coursing through him that it was the least of his problems.

The car came to a jarring halt as it swung into a street lamp. Glass exploded everywhere with a deafening crash. Metal twisted and crumpled with ear splitting screeches. Airbags deployed with alarming bangs; It sounded like actual explosions.

The seat belt didn't stop Phil from hitting the airbag, though it put up one hell of a fight. From the yelp and the pain and the sickening crunch I'd guess he'd broken his nose. Blood poured heavy and fast, choking him as he tried to breathe through his mouth. It was difficult to breathe with the pain in his chest from the seat belt. Maybe he'd bruised his ribs. Maybe he'd even broken a few.

Suddenly, all the movement and all the noises stopped. The entire world came to a halt along with the car. Phil, swallowing his immense fear and alarm at the sight of all the blood, moved his head with a groan to look over at his dad.

There wasn't as much blood on his side, so Phil internally breathed a sigh of relief. Only a small trickle escaping the corner of his dad's mouth. "Dad," he croaked out. His dad didn't stir; didn't open his eyes nor make a sound.

Phil tried again. "Dad." It hurt to use his voice. He wished his dad would answer him already. Let him know he was okay. The possibility that it might not be okay didn't even cross his mind. I didn't want to watch this. I didn't want to see that realisation dawn on his face. I wanted to wake up. Someone please wake me up.

Phil managed to reach over and shake his dad's shoulder. "Dad, come on. We have to get out," he mumbled. His voice got louder and his shakes more forceful when he received zero response. "Dad! Wake up!"

I could pinpoint the exact moment it clicked in his brain. My heart shattered completely, along with Phil's. It hurt more than any of his injuries. They were nothing but paper cuts in comparison to the pain of his broken heart.

Sobs escaped his mouth as he kept shaking his dad's shoulder and saying his name. His voice trembled and cracked as Phil became more and more hysterical. He knew he wasn't going to get a response. He had registered the unnatural angle of his dad's neck. But that didn't stop him from trying.

Anger. Despair. Grief. And terrible, terrible fear. A completely different kind of fear that I had never felt before now. It was a cold, ominous, deeply rooted terror that settled into my bones and paralysed my entire body.

I experienced a nightmare for the first time in my life.