"We're here," Nathaniel said triumphantly as the reached the summit of the hill.

"We are?" William wheezed through the pain, looking around. The hill that they we on descended before them down into a valley lined b high hills on either side. The valley itself was shrouded by thick grey fog that was so dark that it was nearly black to look at.

Groaning, he slid off of one side of the horse. His legs gave way and he ended up in a heap o the ground. And he really didn't want to move from there. Every movement was agony, even just raising his head. But as long as he sat still and didn't move, then the pain was at least manageable.

"Isn't this where you wanted to go?" Nathaniel asked, watching him huddle into a ball on the ground.

"Actually, no," He grunted, "It's where I thought that I should go, not where I wanted to go."

"Well what's the difference?"

"I thought that in order to play out this dream and wake up back home, maybe I needed to face my nightmares. But there are many other places that I'd rather be than in a place of nightmares."

"Well we're here now, so what are you going to do?"

"Well I guess I'm going to go face my nightmares," he sighed.

"That's the spirit," Nathaniel cheered him on, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging hi to his feet. "Face your nightmares and nothing will scare you ever again."

William nearly collapsed back to the ground. Between the pain in his legs and the idea of facing his nightmares, it was almost more then he was able to handle. But this was how he thought that he could get back home to his comfy sofa and popcorn, and that was the only thing that kept him upright.

"Okay, here I go," he said as he began walking slowly towards the black fog.

"Good luck," Nathaniel called after him, "we'll be here when you get back."

"Thanks," William called with a wave over his shoulder. With ay luck, he wouldn't be coming back. If he was right, then once h faced his nightmares, he would be back home again. Right?

The fog was like a wall in front of him, and he hesitated for a moment before plunging into the darkness. A humanoid shape approached him from out of the fog. It shuffled along slowly and seemed like it was using a cane or walking stick. William braced himself for what he was about to see.

The form resolved into an old man walking with he help of a cane. "Sonny, can you help me?" the old man asked, squinting from behind thick glasses.

"Can you spare a dollar for an old man?" his hoarse voice cracked.

"Sure. What's your name, old timer?" He got out his wallet and prepared to dig out some cash.

"My name's William. And thank you for your generosity. Every little bit helps you know."

"William?" he asked, frozen in place.

"That's right. You got that dollar or what?" he was holding out his hand expectantly.

HE pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to the old man, "There you go, sir."

"Thank you, son. Thank you very much," he grinned and nodded. "Say, you look awful familiar. Have we met before?"

"That was weird," he said to himself after the old man had left. "I didn't realize that getting old was one of my fears."

Several figures emerged from the mist; normal looking people talking and laughing amongst themselves. And then another group emerged from the opposite direction. More and more people. some talking loudly and harshly, and none of them speaking to him directly. 

Soon he was surrounded, caught in the middle of a great crowd of people. That put his anxiety on high alert. He could feel himself begin to panic. There were just too many people, crowded around him in every direction. Everywhere he looked there were more people and no open areas for him to escape to. It was like drowning in the middle of the ocean with nothing to cling to.

He chose a random direction that he thought might have fewer people and began making his way through the crowd. He said, "excuse me," about a hundred times as he pushed his way past people, desperate to find the edge of the mob. It seemed the every time he pushed past someone, another person or group of people moved into his way.

Eventually he gave up on excusing himself and just pushed and shoved his way through them. These were nightmares, so he didn't figure that courtesy really mattered. He had to get out of this horde of people. They were pressing on on him from every direction, making it difficult for him to breathe.

His heart was racing and he was panting, struggling to breathe, when suddenly he was in the clear. He shoved his way past the last group of people, and suddenly there were no more of them. He fell to the ground, sucking in air.

"That was horrible," William muttered to himself, still trying to catch his breath. The mob was mysteriously gone, but he didn't want to take any chances that they might return, so he got to his feet and began walking again, away from that area.

The curtain of fog suddenly parted in front of him, and he found himself standing in a hospital room. There was a bed with a man lying on it, tubes and wires connected to him. The man's hands and feet were twisted in unnatural positions that looked horribly painful, causing sympathy pangs in his own extremities.

The man on the bed was obviously struggling to breathe, and was making noises of discomfort. William looked for a nurse call button, but was unable to locate one. 

"P... pain," the main strained to say.

Looking down at the man, it really wasn't a surprise to see that it was him. Again. Strapped into a hospital bed with no relief from the excruciating pain that he was obviously in. That sounded like Hell to him. No wonder it was one of his nightmares.

Suddenly a bevy of doctors and nurses burst into the room, shooing him out of the way and packed themselves around the bed. They were checking his pulse, dilating his eyes, and generally poking and prodding him. "We still can't find the cause of the pain," one doctor said.

Okay, now it was worse. In pain with no relief and a group of useless people packed in around him.