[ WP ] Every time I realize I 'm dreaming , I try to protect someone or something from the inevitable destruction upon waking .

You know it wo n't work. It never does. You always wake up and then she is gone, the one who haunts your dreams, never to return. Until the next night, that is. But that has never stopped you from trying. 
 
 The thing about dreams is time goes funny. You can be asleep for thirty minutes, but have a dream that seems to last hours or days. You have no sense of how long it's been or how long you have left, even after you figure out that the vivid sensations are all in your head. You ca n't really feel the little girl's hand in your own. You ca n't really smell her tears-free shampoo, the one that is still sitting in the bathroom all these years later because your family ca n't bear to get rid of it. You ca n't bear to get rid of it. 
 
 The only thing that really changes is the sensations themselves. Once you know they are n't real, they seem to fade. Except you can still smell that shampoo, and even after you wake it lingers. 
 
 In your dream, you are walking through a park with a little girl who is holding your hand. You know her from somewhere, yet you can not place her in your catalog of acquaintances and friends. Slowly it dawns on you. This is that little girl. The one you know ca n't be here because she has been gone for years. So how is she here? You do n't understand. 
 
 And then you do. She's not here. This is a dream. The same dream you had last night, and the night before, and the night before that. The same dream that you've had every night since it happened. Since she left you. Since you left her. You really do n't know how it happened anymore, but here you are in the same spot it happened that night. You are older and she is the same age, but you never notice that until you wake up. 
 
 You let go of her hand for just a second, like you always do. You never want to. You know it's a bad idea. But you do it anyway. You bend down to tie your shoe. You ca n't help it. You know you're dreaming but you have yet to change the sequence of events. But tonight is different. Tonight, you hear them coming. Feeling as if you're sinking in mud, moving agonizingly slow, you make yourself stand up. This has never happened before. You have always been a slave to the dream. 
 
 You reach for the girl, your hand moving as if through molasses. Your arm feels like a lead weight, but you have to save her. You have to get her back home or you've failed everyone. You've failed her. No. This is a dream. Sometimes you forget and have to remind yourself. You have already failed her. 
 
 You're too late. She is gone. You wake up. You smell her shampoo, a scent that lingers for just a moment in the too-dark room before it's gone. It has been an hour since you first fell asleep, though it seemed like just a few minutes, and you know you wo n't get back to sleep tonight. Regardless, you close your eyes again and lie there for a moment, trying to hold on to the dream. In bits and pieces it fades from your mind like fog when the sun comes out until only one thing is left. You almost saved her. You almost did it. And you are sure that next time you will get even closer.
