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Description
Everything feels like a nightmare. It's really not a nightmare though. I'm not hurtling hundreds of feet through the air, ready to crash to the earth. I'm not running from some monster, born of my inner fears. I'm not even scared.

Maybe nightmare wasn't the best term to use, but bad dream doesn't really seem to fit either. It feels like I'm asleep. Asleep, and in pain. Asleep, in pain, and crying.

But I'm none of those. I'm awake, outside, sitting on a curb in the rain, with nothing more than a hoodie to keep me dry, but it's been soaked through for as long as I can remember, which isn't very far.

Five minutes, maybe. That might be how long I've been sitting here, how far back I can remember.

I'm in a cul-de-sac, sitting on the never ending curb that confines a single tree and a decent amount of slightly overgrown shrubbery to this island in the middle of this little concrete pond; it's connected to the street though, so maybe it's a creek instead?

There's a driveway in front of me, longer than all the other ones. It leads up to a little garage, which connects to a big house, it's a tone of beige maybe a little lighter than skin. This house sticks out. Not because it doesn't match the brick and beige-too-light-to-be-skin-toned houses around me, there's something else. I know this place. Or at least, that's how it feels.

I stand up and feel a squelch between my toes. I look down.

No shoes, just socks.

They're soaked through, just like my hoodie, my t-shirt, and my shorts. I don't care though, I'm too tired to. Maybe it's the rain, just making me sleepy.

I squelch halfway up and the driveway, and turn onto a sidewalk that curves up to the front porch. The front door is mostly glass so it's easy to see into the house. There's three people; a man, a woman, and a girl, they're scattered, but they're all eating. I know these people, I have to. Why else would my heart clench up like it does now?
The man notices me and comes to the door.

"Excuse me, can I help you with something?"

There's an edge to his voice, that's understandable though. You'd probably be edgy if someone was standing at your doorstep, looking into your house. But even so, it stills seems off. There's something familiar, and comforting about his voice, but it's alien and aggressive at the same time.

"I'm sorry, I'm really out of it. I'm not even sure what I'm doing here. Forgive me for the interruption, I'll be going now."

He says nothing as I turn and squelch away, the only sound is the light rainfall and the door closing as I walk down the sidewalk.

I turn to my right, onto the sidewalk near the end of the driveway. It's dirty and there's a big puddle, and two really big palm trees that offer some cover from the rain. I don't care though, because there's someone standing in the street.

I run to them, my soggy feet slapping against the dirty, wet concrete, and only one thought comes to mind.

Dammit, I wish I had shoes.

Description
Everything feels like a nightmare. It's really not a nightmare though. I'm not hurtling hundreds of feet through the air, ready to crash to the earth. I'm not running from some monster, born of my inner fears. I'm not even scared.

Maybe nightmare wasn't the best term to use, but bad dream doesn't really seem to fit either. It feels like I'm asleep. Asleep, and in pain. Asleep, in pain, and crying.

But I'm none of those. I'm awake, outside, sitting on a curb in the rain, with nothing more than a hoodie to keep me dry, but it's been soaked through for as long as I can remember, which isn't very far.

Five minutes, maybe. That might be how long I've been sitting here, how far back I can remember.

I'm in a cul-de-sac, sitting on the never ending curb that confines a single tree and a decent amount of slightly overgrown shrubbery to this island in the middle of this little concrete pond; it's connected to the street though, so maybe it's a creek instead?

There's a driveway in front of me, longer than all the other ones. It leads up to a little garage, which connects to a big house, it's a tone of beige maybe a little lighter than skin. This house sticks out. Not because it doesn't match the brick and beige-too-light-to-be-skin-toned houses around me, there's something else. I know this place. Or at least, that's how it feels.

I stand up and feel a squelch between my toes. I look down.

No shoes, just socks.

They're soaked through, just like my hoodie, my t-shirt, and my shorts. I don't care though, I'm too tired to. Maybe it's the rain, just making me sleepy.

I squelch halfway up and the driveway, and turn onto a sidewalk that curves up to the front porch. The front door is mostly glass so it's easy to see into the house. There's three people; a man, a woman, and a girl, they're scattered, but they're all eating. I know these people, I have to. Why else would my heart clench up like it does now?
The man notices me and comes to the door.

"Excuse me, can I help you with something?"

There's an edge to his voice, that's understandable though. You'd probably be edgy if someone was standing at your doorstep, looking into your house. But even so, it stills seems off. There's something familiar, and comforting about his voice, but it's alien and aggressive at the same time.

"I'm sorry, I'm really out of it. I'm not even sure what I'm doing here. Forgive me for the interruption, I'll be going now."

He says nothing as I turn and squelch away, the only sound is the light rainfall and the door closing as I walk down the sidewalk.

I turn to my right, onto the sidewalk near the end of the driveway. It's dirty and there's a big puddle, and two really big palm trees that offer some cover from the rain. I don't care though, because there's someone standing in the street.

I run to them, my soggy feet slapping against the dirty, wet concrete, and only one thought comes to mind.

Dammit, I wish I had shoes.