Last night I dreamt, I woke up alone in a black room without a discernible end or beginning. On the floor at my feet was a pill bottle, I felt a sort of pull, almost instinctual urge to open it. Unable to resist the itching temptation, I popped the lid off and the bottle spewed it’s beady and circular contents outwards, forcing me backwards and flying out of my hands like a deflating balloon as it sporadically jerked every which way. Soon the pills came like a wave out of the bottle, enveloping me, trapping me, drowning me. All the space around me was filled with pills, the pills became as the air, filling every vacuum, forcing themselves down my throat, and as I choked and coughed under the weight of the ballpit of drugs, I felt something that I haven’t felt in a long time, not during movies, not during walks late at night, or even car crashes, complete and utter fear. I began uncontrollably shaking, spasming, like there was some sort of vibration in my chest, and woke up crying.