Author's PoV
Cole knew where he was. The same, old, dark wardrobe in his mother's room.
He even knew what this was. A dream. A nightmare, actually. And yet, he somehow found himself reliving this one a lot of nights in the year, day after day, the same scene and the same nightmare, over and over, with no way to break out of it.
But when his desperate wish of getting out of it overtook his senses, he kept banging on the shut wardrobe door. He felt suffocated. That was new. He never usually felt suffocated, not even in such nightmares.
And, he was himself this time. The same age he was, not the age he had been when he actually lived this nightmare. Usually, when he relived this same dream, he was six. Sometimes seven or eight. Always a kid. Never eighteen.
He just wanted to get it all
