It explained why he was so exhausted, so internally bruised afterwards. His body wasn’t resting. It was being infiltrated.

He struggled to take control. It was apparent at once he had made a mistake—he was a blade of grass trying to slow down in a rushing river. He looked around wildly, the winds and water pummeling him.

For a second, he saw the eyes, and then they were gone in the torrents of rain. He tried to find them, but he could already feel the familiar pull, wanting to take him elsewhere.

The eyes. He had to get to them.

He jumped.

At least he tried. It was terribly awkward, more of a collapsed leap than anything. All he could think to do was see if he could move on his own.

He leapt again. With each movement above the water, whatever bound him held tight, as if he were stretching invisible chains.

He tried to run. That, too, was a disaster, as if he were attempting it waist deep in snow.

As he inched closer, he caught a glimpse of not only the eyes, but a face. For the briefest of moments, he saw where she was.

The doctor dropped her chart.

It clanged to the floor, echoing in the empty hallway. She reached for the wall behind her, steadying herself.

Had she momentarily blacked out?

She was certainly that tired. Irrationally tired. No-business-treating patients tired. But was she delusional tired?

Because it sure felt like, for just a moment, she’d fallen asleep standing up. She’d literally had the damn dream standing up. The crazy dream, where she was watching the hurricanes form, the waves fighting against each other, all of it rushing towards New Orleans. And, as always, hovering over it all, was William Chance.

She’d finally told Shelia about the dreams yesterday, and her friend had laughed until she cried. She loved to watch Shelia laugh like that, especially in these dire hours. Her face crinkling up, her hand rising to her heart to momentarily cover up her nurse’s badge on her upper chest.

“Jane, my heart, my heart,” Shelia gasped, in between laughter. “My heart is going to burst if you don’t stop. You mean the hot alien dude?”

“Trust me, he was never my type growing up. Which is what makes this so ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, girl. How long has he been showing up in these dreams of yours?”

Jane had sheepishly admitted it had happened on and off for about a year. Shelia had slapped the table so hard she almost knocked over her coffee.

She wanted to share in Shelia’s laughter, to think it was funny too. After all, it was ridiculous. Of course she was dreaming about hurricanes, they haunted the nightmares of every person still in the city. And the dreams were becoming more frightening each time.