<span style="font-style: italic">Dumas dreams.  He can hear rain pounding against the hospital roof, taunting him with water he can’t reach.  He’s so damn thirsty that his throat feels like it’s on fire.  Unfortunately, he’s been pushing the call button for what seems like forever, and no nurse ever comes.  Other than the rain, everything is eerily silent.  He can’t hear any noise out in the hallway; no passing footsteps, no muffled fragments of conversation.  Even the machines clustered around his bed have fallen strangely silent.  As Dumas stares at them, they begin to distort, their hard metal surfaces becoming soft and droopy.  Parts of them pulse, expanding and contracting like fleshy balloons.  It takes Dumas a second to realize that they’re breathing.  Panicked, he tries to rip out everything connecting him to the monstrous machines (IV drip, breathing tube, pulse monitor).  But the tubes and wires writhe like vampiric snakes, refusing to release their grip on his flesh.  With a throat too parched to make noise, Dumas screams, jamming his thumb against the call button over, and over, and over…<br/></span><br/>In the real world, Dumas awoke with a muffled cry.  As he sucked in several ragged breaths, his heart pounded like a war drum, drowning out all other noise.  So it took him a minute to realize that the sound of rain hadn’t vanished with his dream.  Except that it wasn’t rain, and it was coming from the bathroom.  Was Mari taking a shower?  No longer the least bit sleepy, Dumas pulled himself into a sitting position.  He possessed a fairly accurate internal clock, and it seemed earlier than she usually got up.<br/><br/>A shiver rippled through Dumas as he stood up, although he wasn’t particularly cold -- ever since that first night, he’d always worn a T-shirt to bed, as well as the boxer shorts.  He trusted Mari more than just about anyone else in the world.  However, he still wasn’t ready to let her see his back.  Groping his way through the darkness, Dumas found Mari’s phone and confirmed his guess about the time.  It<span style="font-style: italic">was </span>early.  Embarrassment filled Dumas as he realized that he must have woken his hostess by thrashing around or making noise in his sleep.  Of course, Mari wouldn’t judge him for the lapse.  But Dumas still felt bad about disturbing her.<br/><br/>Walking to the bathroom, Dumas rapped his knuckle against its door.  “Mari?” he called, his voice clearly betraying the worry he felt.  “Are you okay?  I’m sorry if I woke you up.”