Every time it's the same dream. I'm cold, wet, alone, and completely dumbfounded. You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach after you do something really embarrassing in public? Or the moment you realize you left the blinds open while getting dressed? That feeling. It's not scary but under the right circumstances it could be problematic.

In this dream I am laying flat on my back looking straight up at the sky. I can't tell if my body is wet from sweating or from rain. It's not always raining in my dream. Sometimes isn't a cloud in the sky. But it is always nighttime, or at least its pretty dark. Either way, there is certainly no sunshine coming through.

I am hurt. I can tell because I can't move any part of my body. But I don't feel it. I don't feel anything. It kinda feels like I am more at peace rather than on the verge of death. I don't know why I am just laying there or where I am I'm just peacefully chillin'. But something starts to feel off. That feeling from before slowly turns to panic. Like the dreams you have when you're falling. Then there is this hot flash of light and laughing. Like a little animal laughing. A hyena? But like, smaller?

"I don't know doc. It's just weird. What do you think?"

"Two spoonful's of fruit loops and call me in the morning," a five-year-old responded from behind a pair of hollowed out frames.

Piper smiled as she slurped up milk from a plastic spoon.

"You are the best in the biz, truly. Where did you go to school again, Harvard?"

"Ha ha, Harvard can't handle me Ms. Piper," the boy laughed.

"And a sense of humor to boot, look out ladies," Piper patted his head before leaning back in her chair.

"Wall, Piper."

"That's me, wish me luck!"

"Get a dog! Get a dog!" the little boy shouted with excitement.

"Finish your breakfast, kiddo," Piper winked as she leaned back and clutched the wheels on her chair.

Today is the day. Today is the day Piper Wall ages out of the orphanage and into a cold world full of opportunities but lacking in funding for the ones in need. As a parting gift, the boys and girls club raised enough money from bake sales, toy drives, and street corners for Piper to pick out a service animal on her way out. The large disingenuous man calling her name was the public transit driver for the handicap bus. Piper gave a half smile as she rolled up to him with a pack in her lap.

The driver held the door open and the two of them made their way to the parked bus that blocked traffic in the parking lot adjacent to a coffee chain and torn-up pavement and traffic cones. The construction site was an ongoing project to make the area more accessible but only added to the mess of potholes and cracked sidewalks that always gave Piper a headache. She grunted as a wheel found itself wedged in a large gap in the concrete. Onlookers would think it was ironic as her sarcastic nature displayed a "how's my driving" bumper sticker on the back of her wheelchair.

The driver took a break from a Bluetooth headset and assisted her out of the chasm and onto the lift. The machine moved slowly making the moment much more glamourous as the driver let out a heavy sigh and grumble.

"Gee, any more pomp and circumstance and I think we'd be outdoing the Titanic," Piper attempted.

"Ha," the driver mumbled.

Piper was like that. She didn't like looking at all the bad things in the world. She only ever believed in the opportunity to do good. She was also vaguely aware that humans are human and certainly imperfect. But so was she and that's what made her feel comfort in chaos. It's when things are too perfect that she begins to feel uneasy. Sarcasm was her way of coping with stress, fear, anxiety, pain, death, all of the things humanity falls apart over. Truth is, she can't really recall a time she ever felt wholly perfect. Literally, she fell and bumped her head when she was younger and has no fucking clue who she is. The doctors found her in a hospital bed staring up at the fluorescent lights humming the tune to "Neon Moon".

The lift came to a screeching halt and Piper rolled forward while the driver secured her chair. She looked around and noticed a larger elderly man slumped over asleep. She narrowed her eyes and could swear she saw an eyepatch covering his right eye. But she couldn't be sure. Imperfect. Just as she liked it. She smirked.

"1830, departing," the driver mumbled into a receiver.

There was a distant rumbling of cars honking while Piper stared out the window across from where she was securely perched. Her hands were folded comfortably on top of her pack. The contents being photos of her time spent with the kids at the orphanage, letters, well wishes, and her favorite book. The binding had seen better days and the author's name was long ago scratched out on all sides of the green hardcover. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper of the pack as she pulled the book out to examine it.

Her hands traced the cover as if it were the first time she had ever seen it. Her mind was distracted, vacant, and yet present all at once. She was worried but fine upset but humble. There really was no right way to feel in this moment. She thought about the story in her hands. The adventure, the perilous journey presented by an unknown author. Piper couldn't help but put herself in the hero's shoes.

"What would Midas do?" she whispered.

Just as she opened the cover to being reading the book for the millionth time the bus jerked and skipped over a large orange cone in the road. Piper's pack flew off her lap and landed in the walkway out of her reach spilling its contents near the doorway. The old man in the back of the bus snorted loudly in his sleep. The driver swung the door open angrily and shouted profanities at a construction worker.

"Excuse me," Piper attempted to no avail as the driver preceded to exit the bus for a closer encounter.

She sighed heavily watching the shouting match unfold out the window behind her. Imperfect, but manageable.

She unbuckled herself from the wheelchair and used her arms to pull her upper body onto a row of empty seats next to her secured chair. She scrambled with her forearms to reach for a metal bar at the end of the row which fell just out of her reach.

"Shit," she strained.

Her gloved hands reached again, hungry for the pages of memories scattered about and blowing around the bus. She watched helplessly as a photograph fluttered out the door and into a sewer drain. She pushed her torso, hard, too hard, fuck.

Her hand slipped across the row of plastic seats as her body landed with a thud on the dirty floor of the bus. The added motion caused just enough of a draft to push the remaining contents out of the bus and into the chaos. Piper reached, defeated, toward the doorway as scribbles of well-wishes and happy memories floated down into the void. The shouting and profanities became distorted as her mind swirled into the vacant calm that often followed her chaos. She felt her body being lifted from behind but her mind was stuck somewhere between disbelief and familiarity. She heard a voice deep and menacing calling out to her but she didn't respond. She began to feel embarrassed again for trying too hard but then nearly panicking as she heard laughter coming from her rescuer.

"Shit, girl, you gonna get me fired," the driver had boarded the back of the bus and gathered up her pack and the green book on the chair next to Piper's wheelchair.

"I was just trying—"

"Yeah, well, people like you shouldn't try so hard," he mumbled as he assisted her back to her chair.

Piper nodded, blankly, while she buckled her seatbelt and held her pack, now nearly empty, tightly. The bus roared back to life as it continued its journey toward the animal shelter.

"Midas would have tried harder," she sighed.

The remainder of the trip was rather dull as the three of them, the musketeers Piper decided, traveled to the outskirts of the city to a regional animal shelter. The old man's snoring was calming as the driver chuckled loudly into his Bluetooth. The views changed from concrete buildings to open green space and fields of wheat. The letter Piper received a few days before did say it was rural, but this seemed almost impossible. She must have dosed off at some point. She felt the pace of the trip from city to country should have been hours but it passed within seconds.

"Um, driver, where are we going?"

The bus made a turn into an unpaved driveway just off the edge of nowhere. Piper couldn't be sure but she could swear she heard the ocean and saw a gull or two. She swiveled in her chair when she noticed the old man was no longer on the bus. She jumped as the lift was activated and squealed angrily as she was lowered onto a gravel entrance.

Piper watched as the little white bus drove away in a cloud of dust, leaving her and her pack at the door of an elongated barn. She half expected to see a farm hand or worker nearby but only heard the rustle and neighs of horses in the distance. She took in a deep breath and smelled the salty air. The contrast between hay and salt gave her mind a sense of peace and calm. It was much different than the smell of wet pavements and shitty hotdogs she was used to.

"Ms. Wall?"

Piper swiveled in her chair with a bit of difficultly and saw a tall dark man accompanied by a small, white, furry animal. She noticed its abnormally long ears and hint of rust atop of its head. There was a large gold medallion around it's neck that had odd markings on it which Piper assumed was some sort of nametag. Piper also took notice of the dark eyepatch on the handler's eye.

"Must be a new fashion trend going around," she mumbled as he approached her.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," she chuckled, "who is this?"

"This is Starfox," he motioned to the animal who squinted intelligently.

"And I am Nick Fury."

Piper couldn't quite put her finger on it but she could swear she had seen that fox before. There it was again. The feeling. Comfort yet embarrassment, cool and uncollected, fine but miserable. Imperfect. Piper approved.

"Groovy, so what happened to your eye?"

The fox jumped up into Piper's lap and let out a whimpering and amused laugh.