You ever have one of those dreams where you are in complete control and you are morbidly aware it’s a dream? No, me neither. Before I awoke in the reality I’d come to know I was whizzed through the last three years had my Emily lived; I proposed within a few days, we had a beautiful daughter we named after my mother, we moved to a house we loved, I was working for myself and doing fairly well. I’m sure there were downsides too but none were revealed to me. The heartbreak was insurmountable. I spent the next few hours either crying or trying to justify and validate; one theory was that by seeing what could have been I had some kind of closure. I had seen and held my daughter, I was able to kiss Emily an almost infinite amount of times again, I was able to enjoy life – or at least some semblance of life. That thought led me to another; the dream was more than a dream; it was so real. While I was in the dream I was so aware and I knew this wasn’t like any dream I’d had before but the real kicker was just how clear and vividly I remembered everything even hours later. I’m a pretty vivid dreamer and at best I’d remember maybe ninety percent of my dream when I first woke up, within an hour I was down to minor details. I called in sick to work roughly an hour after waking up. Luckily Dorothy on front desk made my lie a little easier by telling me a few people have already called in sick today and that something must be going around. I agreed, still holding back tears, and said goodbye. I wrote down everything from the dream including the entirety of my conversations with Emily and upon finishing I read and re-read the whole document. What do I do now? I tried to fill in the gaps, unlock what wasn’t shown, and try to imagine what would come next. Maybe some previously unused portion of my brain had somehow been unlocked and I could fantasise with much greater precision and emphasis to the degree I could almost fool myself. Perhaps some cosmic event had unlocked some alternate reality and by chance my consciousness had slipped into the body of a much luckier me that had everything I ever wanted. Damn him! Whatever it was maybe it was just a dream thing and I could return when I next slept. At once I attempted to doze off but sleep would not come easy. A mix of excitement, fear and adrenaline had me wired. Music was my first thought. I turned on my radio but some maniac was spouting conspiracy theories, at 11am no less. Play some damn music I said out loud, I had gotten used to talking to myself. I put my own music on but that didn’t help one bit. I left the music on and made my way to the fridge for a beer or four. On my way I had a better idea, skipping the beer all together and going straight for the rum in my spirits and snacks cupboard. After only two glasses I made my way to the medicine cupboard for some hearty painkillers. Sadly, I knew from previous experience that a handful of painkillers and a few glasses of rum led to a heavy sleep, followed by a pretty rough hangover and usually vomit. The after-effects couldn’t matter less, I needed to sleep and I needed to sleep well.