A Cursed Triangle

I

I've never understood the obsession everyone seems to have with flying.

Sure, the idea of complete weightlessness is nice. Finally being free of the burden that was existing on the ground. But that isn't flight. That's not what it feels like, no matter how freeing it looks.

Real flight is terrifying. It's a nightmare. The wind stings your eyes and pins them open, forcing you to watch as you fall faster and faster to your doom. Air forces its way into your lungs with so much force you're drowning in the sky. There is no anchor, no support, just you falling and never truly landing.

I fly every night in my dreams. That is, if you can even call them dreams. Ever since I was brought here I've never really fallen asleep. My first night I was sedated, they couldn't get me to calm down no matter how many times they reassured me that I was safe. I wanted to go home. My entire body was tingling and I kept begging them to do something, anything. They just watched me, occasionally glancing at one of the cameras pinned in the wall's corners anxiously. As soon as the drugs hit my system the tingling became a twisted sort of bliss, and I laid down smiling and tingling.

Until I started flying. At first it was merely a tickle, a stirring around my arms and legs. I giggled a little, my mind still coated in blissful unawareness.

But without warning it changed. Soon my back was being battered with wind, my stomach sinking against my will as I fell and fell and fell for what must have been the entire night. I kept waiting to jolt awake like I always did in dreams like this, but I just kept falling. I couldn't see anything but I felt everything. The height, the speed, the danger. I never heard anyone or anything else, as far as my ears were concerned I was still lying on the bed with my body still tingling. I didn't keep track of how long that nightmare lasted, but it was long enough that when the nurse that had sedated me shook me awake my muscles ached from being tensed the entire night.

That morning I was escorted to a room and seated in a circle of chairs. Other kids were in there, I think the youngest looked to be around eight while the oldest couldn't have been over 23. A man with smooth, carefully groomed gray hair entered the room, seated himself in the circle, and quietly asked us how we slept. Some of us exchanged confused looks with one another at the question. We thought we were going to get some sort of explanation as to what had happened, or why we were here, or when we were going home, but no. This man gathered us all together to talk about how we slept as if we were guests at some cheesy bed and breakfast. A few minutes passed with the man sitting patiently and formally in his seat before one girl hesitantly raised her hand.

"Yes, Thalia?" The girl's face gave away that she didn't know the man, that he shouldn't have known her name yet. The man didn't show that he'd noticed her fear, simply gave her an encouraging smile.

"I- I had a dream..." Thalia's voice was heartbreakingly delicate. She fiddled with her hands and shrunk under the man's gaze.

"And?" He encouraged, his voice gentle but his eyes gleaming with a perplexing excitement.

"It was a nice dream," Thalia whispered with a smile. "I haven't had a dream in so long..." The man nodded as if he knew that was going to be her response.

"That's wonderful dear," The word sounded strange here, so unnatural. "what was your dream about?" Thalia was more confident now, comforted by the man's gentle curiosity.

"I was flying, like a bird. I flew all around the world and then when I woke up I felt so light and-"

"Fantastic. How about we all go around and share how we slept, just like Thalia here, okay?" He spoke to us like we were kindergarteners, an unnerving sweetness in his tone. Carefully, the other kids in the circle shared their sleep, and, more perplexingly, their dreams. All of them the same. All of them of a blissful flight. The man seemed pleased with the results of... whatever this was, and something told me that he wouldn't be happy if something changed that. So I copied my peers, going on about feeling myself soaring through the air and waking up without a care in the world, with all my burdens lifted away. After the last person spoke, once again of the same gleeful flight, the man dismissed us and each of the nurses assigned to us led us our separed ways to the rooms we had all woken up in that morning.

We continued being brought to that group room, every single morning. Every morning We would be asked about how we slept until sharing the dreams became routine. It was always the same, though some kids had more elaborate flights than others. We'd go back to our rooms, where we'd get our vitals taken, the nurse would leave and return with a tray of food, and we would go to bed. After a time I noted that we were being put to bed for far longer than would ever be normal. I tried to stay up one night, counting out loud. I got to 800-something before I fell asleep and 'flew' once more.