Forced, Cliché Dreams

Michael sat in the middle of the beach looking out at the ocean. It was endlless beach, no trees in sight, only sand and water and sky. He sighed as he watched a single cloud, the only cloud for miles, on the horizon. If it would only rain he could get something to drink.

He stood and the scene changed. He was standing on the rocky shore next to a river so he eagerly dove in to cool off and get something fresh to relieve his parched throat. There at the bottom of the crystal water, Tom laid motionless.

Everything stopped for a moment.

Michael dragged Tom to the surface and the rocky shore and repeated the process of trying to revive him. Nothing happened. There was no glimmer of hope that he would revive. No heartbeat.

"Where were you?" Tom asked sternly from where he was standing next to Michael and himself.

"What?" Michael looked down at the unconscious tom and up at the speaking one in confusion.

"You let me die. You didn't stay with me," Tom screamed at him.

"I thought you just needed your space," Michael gave up trying to save the dead Tom to speak to the live one.

"I thought you said I was important to you. Maybe you didn't mean what I thought you did," Tom walked away, Jeannie at his heels.

"No, Tom I-!" But Michael wasn't really sure what he had meant. It was too late now.