[TM] Write about a recurring dream you've had.

He didn’t remember much of the bombing. If he thought hard enough, he could grasp onto the fringes of the conversation he and Monroe had had before they went into the building, but other than that nothing. Lindsay tried to ask him what it was like, once. When she was too drunk to filter the awkward question away, and before she could stammer out a “Never mind, you don’t have to answer” he told her that he couldn’t remember anything. Nothing but hazy grays and until he woke up in the hospital, feeling like he had been run over by a brick wall. He had spent weeks being told that he was lucky to be alive, that he didn’t try and think of what he could remember—he didn’t even realize what had happened to him.

Most people said he was fortunate to not remember anything. That it would make getting through things easier, but truth be told, the gaps his memory left out were quickly filled by his imagination. He had never realized that his imagination could do the kind of damage it did—he had never been yelled at for having an overactive imagination as a child, so he hadn’t expected the visions that came. They haunted him in ways he couldn’t explain, and he didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all. During the day, he could block it out, force himself to think about something else but he could always feel the images creeping along the edges of his thoughts. When he was asleep—there was nothing to stop his subconscious from taking over.

( He’d see rubble and flames and smoke. )