Synchronized Swimming

Chapter 9: Nightmare

Thanks for all of the votes and comments! Sang's nightmare is based off one I had a few years ago.

Sang

My music echoes around the pool. As I swim my solo, I try to put in emotion and swim it with all of my passion, but I just become more and more tired. My legs become lethargic; it is hard to keep my head out of the water. Suddenly, lightning strikes a lifeguard chair, which falls over into the pool, flaming. Fire spreads around the deck, creating an impenetrable inferno. The music continues playing, causing a macabre atmosphere.

I swim towards the side of the pool seeking escape. Somehow, the water has caught on fire, and it chases me around the pool. Pulling myself onto the deck, I see an opening in the flames that would give me safe passage out of this raging nightmare. However, a sense of worry fills me, and I look behind me to see the struggling forms of nine guys. They are all surrounded by flames. If I don't help them, I know they will die.

Leaping back into the water, I swim towards them as fast as I can. Soon, my arms and legs have succumbed to their lethargy and have stopped obeying my commands, and I end up floating uselessly. Flames encompass me, and I burn. The pain is excruciating. My tears mix with the water, and I drown, inhaling fiery liquid.

"Sang! Wake up!" voices start penetrating the edges of my fog. I hear a sharp crack, and pain fills one side of my face.

"Mmhum," I mumble.

"I think she's waking up!" a voice says excitedly. I think it's Nathan, but I'm really not sure.

With a great deal of effort, I crack open my eyes. I quickly take stock of my surroundings. Eight guys are crouching down around my chair, all with looks of worry marring their faces. Where's the ninth one? I feel a shoulder shift underneath me, and I blush when I realize that I've been leaning on Silas.

"What happened?" I ask, worried that I was drooling or doing something equally embarrassing in my sleep.

"You started becoming agitated in your sleep. When your breathing became irregular, we tried to wake you, but it wasn't working, so Mr. Griffin slapped you." Mr. Blackbourne explains. Oh yeah, my dream. I often get nightmares, but never ones as serious as this. Nathan looks devastated that he had to hit me, but I don't blame him for trying to help.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Victor questions, his eyes blazing with concern. I repress a shudder; his fire eyes remind me too much of my dream right now.

"Yeah, but it's no big deal. I get nightmares every once in a while, I just ignore them." I say, then wince at what I inadvertently revealed. Mr. Blackbourne gets an assessing look in his eyes when I admit to my nightmares.

The boys all do their eye communication thing, and North asks, "Do you want to talk about it?" I consider it, and launch into my tale of terror. All of the boys visibly flinch when I tell them that I turned away from safety to try and help them. Silas besides me looks positively green at the thought. So much, in fact, that I start to ask him what's wrong when he abruptly leaps up from his chair and runs to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

I stare after him in confusion. "What's wrong with Silas?"

"Silas has a rather weak stomach and often gets motion sickness while flying. I think that your predicament distracted him for a while, but once he saw that you were fine, it hit him full force. I gave him a pill to help before we took off, but it apparently didn't work." Dr. Green says to me.

While I feel bad for Silas, his timely departure gives an excuse to change the subject from my nightmare. "So, what's the plan when we arrive in Charleston?" I wonder out loud.

"Well, we were planning on relaxing for the rest of the day, and then starting practice tomorrow." Kota says. "We rented a large house close to a pool so that we can all stay together for the duration of the... camp."

I notice him stumble over the last word, and it reminds me of a question I've been thinking about but keep on forgetting to ask. "How many other campers are there?"

All of the boys look decidedly uncomfortable at this question. Mr. Blackbourne remains calm, though. "You are the only one," he says smoothly, "I cannot work with a mob of swimmers. This way should provide the maximum improvement both in you and the other Sharks in the amount of time we have."

"And how long is that?"

"Until after the national competition in two months." I stare at him in shock. My mother is paying for a two month camp! I had no clue we had that kind of money.

Gabriel steers the conversation to room decorations and shopping expeditions, and I happily lean back and observe the interactions taking place around me. At one point, I catch Mr. Blackbourne's eye, and for once I can clearly read the message he is trying to send.

Mr. Blackbourne may have let the nightmare go for now, but he noticed my hasty subject switch, and we would be having another conversation about it sooner rather than later.