Normal
Beautiful Disaster
He drowns in his dreams,
An exquisite extreme, I know
He was dreaming about her. Again, for the third time this week, since September; and it was almost December. It wasn't really about her, per se, but she was in it. He was drowning in the ocean, but not just any ocean, the Pacific Ocean. He wondered, in his dream of course, if that was significant. He faintly recalled, in the last case, asking Chase if he'd talked to his dad about why he had flown all the way across the Atlantic Ocean to see him; only to be corrected by Chase, saying that his dad had flown across the Pacific Ocean. He couldn't believe he was thinking about Chase, in a dream, no less. But this was a dream, his dream. He was drowning in the ocean, not able to swim, of course, because of his leg. He had just gone to see Cuddy, and then, the ground mysteriously disappeared out from under him. He vaguely remembered Cuddy mentioning something about a trap door. He'd stared at her quizzically, trying to figure out what metaphor she was using and what it meant. But soon, as he limped out, he realized this was no metaphor. He found himself falling, into what he assumed –and you know what happens when you assume- to be an abyss of nothing, typical for most of those kinds of dreams. He furrowed his brows in confusion, as the air rushed past him, at the speed of sound, for this was very unlike Cuddy. But then the "abyss" gave way to freezing cold water, making him catch his breath, and also sending him into a shivering fit. He stared around him, squinting to find someone, anyone that could help him. It didn't matter who it was, just someone who could save him before he drowned, which was pretty damn quick, he calculated from his breathing and the way the cold water acted like a vice, slowly, tortuously freezing the air in his lungs. He gasped for breath, and looked around. That's when he saw it, or her: Cameron. Or at least, he thought it was, but he was going insane from lack of air and possibly Hypothermia, so he didn't really know, now did he? He saw the silhouette of her body, standing on the land, with a life raft in her hand, ready to save him. He felt the salt from the water combined with the blowing wind, making a home in his hair, lining his scalp. He felt himself sinking into the water; it was up to his neck now. "Cameron!" he called out.
"House?" she asked, furrowing her brows into a perfectly aligned V, and squinting her eyes to get a better view of him. He smiled.
"Swim closer so I can throw you the life raft."
He tried to swim, but, from the pain in his leg, he stopped. Suddenly he was swimming like mad, and the island was getting farther away, shrinking into the dark gray sky that was getting darker by the minute. The water was swallowing him as he tried to call out, Cameron was shrinking, and the life raft that before was a beacon of hope in the ever-darkening sky now seemed as though it were taunting him, to just swim a bit farther and he could be saved. He continued swimming, blocking out the grueling pain, blocking out the force of the wind that was telling him no, that he couldn't do it, but he pushed himself further, and yet, for every foot he got closer to the island, the farther the island got from him. And then, he stopped. His legs gave out and the pain was intoxicating, sucking the very life right out of him. He stopped, resting his legs, but that didn't seem to be enough. His legs throbbed with exhaustion and he felt as though he'd run a thousand miles. The water rushed in him, filling his lungs with freezing cold, ice water. He gasped, and spluttered, trying in vain to fill his lungs with salty, crispy air. Any kind of air, if he could just breathe. He coughed and looked around, but could find no one. He was alone.