The dream always starts the same way. I’m walking down the alley, the same one I walk every night, but this time I hear… quacking. Just a little at first, then more and more, until the air is a deafening cacophony of quacking, getting closer and closer.

I run, but there’s a wall blocking me. Not a normal wall, this one’s white and smooth and I can’t climb it. I turn around, and there they are. Ducks. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them, slowly closing in around me as the water rises to my chin, the relentless quacking echoing in my head…

And that’s the point where I wake up, my heart pounding, the sheets stained with sweat, relieved to learn that it was all just a dream. Or was it?

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