The boat rocked from side to side, more water spilling in with each sway. I gripped the splintered wood, trying to keep myself firmly rooted in the boat. It was no use, though, for the boat tipped on its side, sending me plummeting into the cool water.

I began to flail, kicking, reaching out for something, anything that could possibly rescue me. The salty water filled my mouth and nose and made me gag as I swallowed gulp after gulp of the disgusting solution.

I knew how to swim. I was trying, moving my arms and kicking my legs. I knew how to swim. I was on the swim team, for God’s sake, but at that moment in time, my body would not physically allow me to do anything but thrash back and forth. I could feel myself sinking further and further down. The bright spot where the sun was shining through the surface was becoming smaller and darker. Deeper. Deeper.

I shot up in bed, breathing heavily. My hair was soaked with sweat, and I felt as if I had actually been swimming. I looked to my left, then my right, and then began counting like I always did after a dream.

Ten fingers. Ten toes. Two ears, two eyes, one mouth. All there. It was a habit I had developed over the years of dreaming, my way of confirming that I was awake.

I hated dreams. There was something so confusing about them. They seemed so normal while they were occurring, but when I woke up, I realized just how twisted they really were. And I could never remember everything. What had happened in the beginning? How had I ended up where I was at the end? If there was one thing that I felt completely necessary for sanity, it was logic. Unfortunately, logic enjoyed playing a little game of hide and seek during my dreams.

The day after a dream, my opinions of people changed. I got butterflies when the boy I thought I didn’t particularly care about walked into the lunchroom. I wanted so badly to hit the girl who was a generally nice person. I couldn’t tell you why, mainly because I couldn’t remember. And even if I did, there was no logic behind it. No reason to be sad when I saw the girl who dies in my dream. No reason to distrust my best friend. Nothing.

I lay back down again and sighed. My eyes weren’t quite ready to close, though, and so I just stared at the white ceiling. No logic. No reason. Nothing.

There was only one thing left to do that I knew had sure logic behind it. Sighing, I sat up and began counting. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Two ears, two eyes, one mouth. All there.