I once dreamt I was running through a sea of people. Their faces were a blur, as was the fact that I seemed invisible to them. I pushed myself through the crowd and with each step I took my heart pounded hard against my chest.
Pressed for air, I was forced to stop in my tracks. My hands gripped tightly onto my knees. I gasped for air but it did nothing to calm my now aching heart. I felt pressure spread all through my small-built stature.
Bent and weak, I drew in deeper breathes but my throat felt sore and dry. And for a moment there, panic swept through. This is it. Something has got to give, was it going to be my aching heart or perhaps my troubled mind?
Then I thought to myself, this must be a dream. I have to be dreaming. All I need to do is wake myself up from this nightmare. At least that was what I tried to convince myself with. But this was no dream. Panic attacks don't count as dreams, not these ones especially.
I clasped my palm tightly to my chest and with the next breath, I closed my eyes and prayed the hurt away.
I guess now I fit the girl in your story?
