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I was planning on going to bed, so I don't have the energy to go into detail, i just need to get this shit out of my head. Someone set off fireworks near my place and it triggered my PTSD. When i was a small kid, i spent new years eve with a friend. Her father had a drink or two too many and while setting off fireworks, he took one, directed it at me and it went of. I tried to jump away but it hit my left foot and exploded, injurying me pretty badly.

There is no chance we could have prepared for this, the Winged Empire has found something AGAIN we hadn't planned for, and now as we are slowly picked off all I want to do is punch my commander in the face.
This entire debacle started about two months ago now. I was leading the spearhead into the enemy lines, and for months before we had been pushing them back easily.We thought within another year we would have humanity off that planet. It might take a century to crush the Winged Empire and another to destroy the remnants, but we would win.
That was till I retrieved the report that ended it all. Our flack and anti-air teams had been strong for months, even with how mobile the enemy's aircraft was, but our adaptation of their anti-air systems made them easier to kill. Then our anti-air teams suddenly came across a target they found impossible to kill.
The aircraft moved without reason, no pilot could ever control it, it moved more like a bird than a plane, its wings moved independently, each metallic surface bending like flesh. Yet it clearly wasn't, it flew over our gun emplacement at Mach speeds dropping bombs and firing missiles, yet from the reports something was wrong. I refused to believe it till I saw it but I couldn't go to our anti-air lines as I was needed in the front.
Although my lead of the campaign quickly came to an end, our anti-airlines had been thoroughly dismantled and our resupply was stopped by this one aircraft that had quickly been joined by many of its kind.
It was on our final push attempting to gain new fronts in the enemy lines when I first saw the beast.
The first thing to happen was the enemy lines fell quiet as we charged into their trenches only to find they were empty. Along the trench walls, falls guns were set up and every gun had a crude system set up where a weight filled with water would slowly pull on the trigger till it fired.
As we walked through the trenches trying to find any intel we could send back to base.
It's then we heard the beast for the first time. I came running out of the trench to the sound of something crashing in the center of no-man's land, only to see a ghostly white creature standing there. I wasn't instantly proven my men were not wrong, it was colossal about twice the size of a normal human aircraft but supported itself on several small spindly feet. Four were on the end of what I assume were its wings while another two were at the end of its tail on long thin legs.
The creature looked at us with curiosity. I couldn't see its eyes as it was clearly an aircraft originally I assumed they were behind the windshield while two colossal engines came out of its body ahead of its tail legs.
Slowly I clambered up onto the top of the trench and walked towards it holding out my hand trying to calm the creature. My men instantly started to call it the blood ghost, I had no idea why they called it that the only part that made sense was the ghost part as the entire creature was white except the tip of the engines and the frame of the windshield.
As I drew closer the creature opened its mouth, I suddenly understood why my men had called it the blood ghost. As it shifted its wings opened showing blood-red threads of skin and the inside of its mouth was entirely red.
“Do not treat me like a mindless beast foe of my masters. Why do you fight, warriors of the false empire.” I recoiled in fear and surprise as the beast spoke in perfect Terran standard.
“Y-you can talk?” For a moment the beast seemed to think about whether it should speak or not. “Answer my question alien, your answer will determine if you live or die.”
I stood for a moment thinking of an answer and only came up with one. “I fight because those are my orders, if I do not my family and I will be punished.”
The beast reared up on its hind legs. “Such a pathetic reason, you hold no ideals of your own, you only fight for your own desire, I always question my master's orders but I see the dragon empress was right. So as the monarch of the Aerodargon, I will put the mindless animals down.”
I froze up as the beast lunged at me biting down on my arm, it lifted me up into the air as with many smaller arms I hadn't seen before reached into the equivalent of a bomb bay in its stomach and removed several missiles.
It finally bit down on my arm fully and tossed me away like a ragdoll into the trenches as it began to toss the missiles at my men like javelins, as along its nose on the left side a section of its skin peeled back with a metallic clink before the sound of a rotary cannon spinning up was heard and bullets began to fly from it.
Several of my men instantly started to fire back, our plasma rounds bouncing off its skin or simply sizzling away.
As my soldiers quickly fell they started to run from the fighting, a few of them grabbed me as I bled out and dragged me into the tree line to escape.
As we vanished into the trees, the beast relaxed and watched us as we left, as if it was stalking its prey. “I've hunted prey much deadlier than you on Earth, and an Aerodargon never forgets its prey.”
We hoped the beast was bluffing, no animal could hunt its prey as far as we ran, as I and my men healed our wounds we found a disturbing truth, many of my men who were struck by bullets found that the bullets we pulled out were actually teeth, about 20 cm long and 5 wide they were colossal but nowhere near as large as the ones in its jaw.
As we stayed hidden in the woods we knew our assault had collapsed as we watched our starships fall from the sky. So we devised a plan, there was a logistics point within a nearby city that we should be able to call a rescue ship. But we had to split into small groups to avoid that beast and military patrols.
Slowly we made our way to the city, over the weeks-long march we lost many men, by the time we had started with 80 men, and by the time we got to the supply point, there were only 30 of us remaining.
We did our best to get in contact with our forces, as one by one we were picked off by snippers, but every time we tried to get through our communication either were blocked or just couldn't find their target as our fleet slowly was pushed further back, our failure on this world had created a domino of failures.
We had no options further except to surrender or fight our way out, and neither was possible with our orders, but the beast's question to my surprise sat in the back of my mind.
With no way out we decided to take the honorable exit, one by one my men took their own lives disintegrating their bodies with their plasma pistols till I was the last one left.
I stood for a moment between the piles of ashes, looking up into the buildings I could see maybe a hundred glints of snipper scopes.
But as I was ready to take my own life I heard it again, the engines of that beast getting louder before it shot over me, a white and red streak shot through the air circling the courtyard I was standing in before it came to land on a skyscraper its many claws digging into the steel frame causing tonnes of rubble to fall to the streets below.
Again I found myself enthralled as I watched the beast change from the rigid perfectly shaped form of an ancient Terran aircraft to the beast, hundreds of blood-red tendrils stretched between the wings that formed its arms and the main body.
In a display of power, the beast clambered up the tower till it was at its peak and just looked at me. It didn't smile, laugh, grin or anything, it didn't attack or move, it just sat clinging to the tower breathing as it looked at me.
In anger I brought my pistol up to the beast ready to fire on it but before I could several sniper shots all at once pierced my head.
—------------------------------------------------------
As the body fell to the ground the Aerodargon jumped from the building landing on the street below tossing up dust. Its white body emerged from the dust cloud as one of the snipers came out from the buildings.
For the moment the Areodargon stood in front of the body before leaning down and biting on his feet, tossing his body into the air and opening its jaw letting the body fall into its maw swallowing it whole.
Slowly the snipper walked up to the Aerodargon and ran their hand along its cold skin. “You ident take too long to think of eating that one Arolan. Something different?”
Arolan snapped his head around defensively bearing his teeth, caught off Garud by the snipper as he had been so indulged in eating the body. As soon as he realized who was there, he relaxed as he stood up on his legs to their full height.
“This man had no soul, he was nothing more than a robot taking orders so I treat him as such.”
“Hummm, we're lucky to have your kind on our side.”
“I am not loyal to your kind, Tailon. I am loyal to my makers, I am loyal to you only as long as you are loyal to humanity. Do not take my peace with you as loyalty, I would consume you just as readily.”
Tailon walked around in front of Arolan tossing her rifle over her back. “Yes, but I am loyal to humanity, I was born under the winged empire's wing, I would die before going back to the curse my parents saw under the first empire.”
Arolan looked down at her for a moment before chuckling. “You are the only one to speak to me so brashly Tailon, your strong soul is why I indulge you so willingly, now, let us return to the enterprise before we are left on this barren rock for the rest of the war.”
Hopping into the air the twin engines that were a part of Arolan’s body burst into life sending a warm gust of air across the land as he shot into the air leaving Tailon behind for her to walk over to a transport truck the other snippers were clambering into.

Nettie Peterson has known me at my best and at my worst, and after everything that's happened lately, I think I can finally say the same. I'm admittedly not very good at comforting her, though. I haven't had much practice, is all. Historically speaking, she's always been the one to take care of me. My introduction to earth was a confusing, horrifying time for me, and she had dealt with all of it. She'd handled every panic attack, brought me back from every low. When I woke up one night to a drilling pain in my stomach and blood soaking my panties, she managed to keep me calm while explaining that this would now happen every month.
What I'm saying is that the woman is insanely skilled.
Me, not so much. After we had gotten out of the cave, I tried to provide emotional support by petting her hair and talking soothingly. Seeing as I was also distressed, she was doing the same to me, so we were basically sitting on the beach holding each other. To the outside observer, we must have looked rather strange. I was relieved to finally get back to her house. We sat down in front of the TV and ate cupcakes. We have a special system for eating cupcakes. I peel off the frosting and give her rest. It's messy and I have to keep hand wipes nearby everytime, but it's how we do it. We both eat cupcakes whole when we're by ourselves, so it doesn't make much sense either, but when we share, it's always like this.
Once I was sure she was alright, I left her to go off to bed while I made my way back to the hotel, bracing myself for what I expected to be an extremely uncomfortable conversation.
The lobby was dim and quiet. The large, bright ceiling lights had been turned off with only a couple floor lamps illuminating the hall. I walked past the unmanned reception desk and up the stairs, then rapped my knuckles against the door to Frankie's room. After a couple seconds, he opened up. Upon meeting my gaze, he let out a soft gasp, but it wasn't followed by a smile this time. He made way for me to step inside, wordlessly, and I entered without breaking the silence. I sat down on the sofa where he joined me after placing a glass of coconut water in front of me.
For a beat, we both stared at the drink. I didn't take it.
"What you did felt really off earlier," I began. "You were trying to embarrass Nettie. If you were testing your boundaries, if you were trying to see how I'd react, you got your answer. Don't ever make me choose between you two. You'll lose."
"Yes," he said quietly.
"If you don't get along with Nettie, that's one thing. You don't need to. But she was needling you and you made a real effort to be cruel." I paused. "You act so strange sometimes. All bossy and cagey."
"Yes," he repeated, briefly falling silent as he worked away on his gum in slow, contemplative motions. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I wanted to unsettle her. It's not that I don't like her, she's fine, but at that moment, I simply loathed her. I couldn't tell you why. But I wish I'd kept quiet. I feel gross for spouting off like that."
"Then… why?"
"I don't know! There's this weird feeling, it comes over me and makes me remember stuff that's in the past… Then I get caught up and confused. I run my mouth, but I don't want to make you upset. I swear I won't do it again. I'll rein myself in."
"Will you? This doesn't seem right." I took a deep breath. "Frankie, I have no idea what you are. Even though you know everything about me."
"Not everything," he argued. "You never said a thing about what life was like where you're from. Or who you were before. Yes, that's not what this is about, but I'm just speaking technically."
"You shouldn't have to rely on technicalities to make a point."
"No. Look, I keep wondering what I'm even doing here. I like you a lot. But I haven't thought this through and by now, I'm scared to."
"Stop talking in riddles," I implored him.
He huffed out a chuckle. "I'd have to stop thinking in them first." Before he could add anything else, his phone started vibrating on the TV table. "Oh, dammit," he muttered. Shooting me an uncertain gaze, he reached out for it, his hand hovering above the screen. "Can I?"
"Sure." I let go of a long breath, snatched up the glass and leaned back in my seat as Frankie answered the call. I pick up on a woman's voice talking on the other end.
He kept glancing over at me almost sheepishly as he mumbled words of affirmation into the phone. "Yes… Yeah, I remember… Well, it's not a good time, but I'll do it. Bye." Dropping the device into his lap, he gave me a twist of the mouth. "That was Mae-Lynn. She works at—"
"The diner with you," I cut him off. "I do take note of the other staff there, for your information." I took a sip of my water. "Occasionally."
"I promised to do some shopping for her. She's come down with the flu. Store's closing soon, though, so I'll have to go now."
"Well, that's convenient."
"I was going to ask you to come along."
I agreed. Having lost track of the conversation, the drive was a grim, quiet affair. Frankie took us to one of the more expensive stores in the area, saying that he wanted to treat Mae-Lynn.
"Take a cart," I ordered, and once he had acquired one, I had him hold it still while I climbed inside. He regarded me with a bemused expression but refrained from commenting as he began to roll me down the aisles.
Grocery shopping at night is something else. Eighties music was playing over the radio at a low volume, but the otherwise quiet space made it sound decidedly louder. There was almost the hint of an echo. Safe for two of three singular, tired-looking individuals, Frankie and I were the only people in the store. I had nestled against the back of the cart, my head tipped back to watch Fran's face from below as his eyes roamed the shelves. Occasionally, he'd stop to check the list Mae-Lynn had texted him on his phone.
"If you want anything, speak up," he told me.
"I'm out of cereal," I said, just as we passed the respective aisle. He turned the cart back around, let me pick out a carton of cornflakes and took up walking again. After five minutes of stoically regarding him from my mobile vantage point, I piped up again. "Go back. Wrong ones."
"Well, which ones do you want? I'll get them, it's faster than pushing this thing around."
I shook my head. "No, no, I have to look at them. Go back."
He shook his head to himself but obediently maneuvered the cart back to the shelf with the breakfast items. I took my time picking out a different box, then settled back down.
"Happy?" Fran asked.
"Delighted."
After fifteen minutes, we were getting close to finishing Mae-Lynn's list. Frankie was starting to move towards the cash register, only for me to tug on his arm. "Turn back," I told him, holding up the box. "I don't want them after all. I need different ones."
He stifled a groan. "Sure, Sunshine." I let him roll me all the way back to the cereal aisle where I studied the colorful boxes intensely. "Nevermind," I said, turning back to him. "Let's go."
He started making his way over to the register again when I cleared my throat. "Actually, I think I might have another look."
"Are you kidding me?" he squeaked, only for me to hold his gaze with a smile. "You are," he choked out. "I oughta send you rolling right into that stack of cans."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Is that a challenge?" He glanced about himself, finding that we were alone. Then, he pushed the cart, and it swerved, sliding across the shiny floor. The thrill of the launch washed over me and I started laughing. He lunged for it, grabbing it just in time to prevent the collision.
"Do it again!" I demanded.
He indulged me, sending me swerving and spinning a couple more times. Eventually, he took a running start and pushed me down a long, empty aisle at a breakneck speed. The giggles died in my throat when, seemingly out of thin air, someone appeared at the end of the aisle. My jaw dropped and I reflexively gripped the sides of the cart to protect myself from the impending crash, but the person simply reached out and caught the cart by its edges. Within the blink of an eye, they had managed to steady it. My vehicle had come to a standstill. It all happened incredibly fast, and for a moment, I found myself unable to react. One of the other person's hands had come to rest over mine in the process. Still at a loss for words, I raised my head to meet their gaze.
Those eyes.
My heart, already thundering in my chest, dropped entirely into my stomach. There were pupils filling the void in that formerly uninterrupted pale vastness this time, but I recognized them either way. Seeing them sit in an actual face instead of behind a nondescript black mask was strange, but there was not a doubt in my mind. It was them.
The cultist had jarringly pleasant features that struck me as neither overtly feminine nor masculine. Their tawny skin had an almost bronze sheen to it and short locks of platinum blond hair stuck to their smooth forehead, slick with the same sweat that formed stains beneath the armpits of their light gray t-shirt.
It was like time stood still. The interaction could not have been longer than two seconds in total, but it felt like a full hour. From me staring at our linked hands, to locking eyes with them, to the cold, raw realization, it seemed to me as though forty minutes or more had gone by, followed by another twenty when I watched the crude smile forming on their lips. Their fingers clamped down on my own, and before I knew it, it had happened.
The lights in the store had changed color, taking on a dimmer, sickly green tint. The shelves around us had emptied and the gentle, melodic hum of the radio had been replaced by a deep, droning buzz of static. I was still sitting in the shopping cart, and the cultist was still leaning over me, but their expression had morphed into one of shocked disbelief. Seeing fear on the face of the person who'd stabbed me might have been a great satisfaction to me in any other situation, but right then and there, I was equally as terrified.
I had switched dimensions and was now alone with my attempted murderer.
The thought took a while to sink in, but the clearer it became, the more I felt the need to scream. And yet, not a sound left my lips. My own saliva had turned sour, filling my mouth with an acidic taste. Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach like icy, chilled water and tears were stringing the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away in a hurry, redirecting my gaze at the cultist. They were staring past me in a daze, taking in our changed surroundings before fixing me with a sharp glare.
"Seriously?"
"What?" The word somehow slipped past the lump in my throat.
The cultist made a sweeping gesture at our surroundings. "Where are we? What the hell is this? You don't even have your dimension hopping under control? Not gonna lie, I had higher expectations of you."
"What?" I repeated eloquently.
"You just switched dimensions on my ass. And seeing as you literally crashed into me, I don't think you planned on doing that."
"I didn't," I confirmed.
"That's what I'm talking about."
"You know about dimensions?"
The cultist palmed their face, emitting a deep, low groan. "Clearly."
I scrambled back in the cart, trying to bring some distance between the two of us. I bared my teeth at them, both rows elongating and curving outward. At least I was getting the hang of my physical transformation. "If you come any closer, I'll rip your hand off," I hissed, spittle flying out between my fangs.
"I believe you," they replied, narrowing their eyes at me. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
"That's hard for me to believe."
"Yes, sure. I did and I would again, but not here. Not now. You understand?" they asked pointedly, their voice cutting like a razor blade.
"I'm not sure I do."
"Well, without you, I won't get out of here, and I've stuff to do on the other side." They stepped behind the cart and grabbed onto the handle.
I hastily twisted around to face them. "You know about the finer details of dimension hopping but you can't do it yourself?"
They let out a soft sigh as they began pushing the cart, with me inside, down the empty aisle. "I managed to do it once. Just once. Never again. It's not a great surprise to me that you should be able to switch to the other sides, but I'd thought you'd be able to control it. I think I have your number. I'm pretty sure I know what you are, and we have more in common than you could have probably guessed. That boy you were with on the other hand… I won't lie, he freaks me out. He's got the strangest face and he didn't react to my eyes at all."
"What are you?" I queried, quick to steer him away from the topic of Frankie Preston even though I didn't really expect an honest answer. "How'd you do that the other night? Your… your eye thing?"
"That unsettled you, didn't it? It's not anything I do per se." They shrugged leisurely. "I could just as well ask you where you're hiding your tentacles."
"So you're not human. I didn't think you were," I stated. "What's your business with the Collective? What are you after? Are any of you normal people?"
"As far as I know, I'm the only one who's not." They steered the cart around the corner with a swift, forcible yank and I bumped painfully against the side of the cart. Stifling a yelp, I kept my face straight, looking over the shelves as we passed them. I noticed that some of them weren't entirely empty—there were a couple jars, cans and bags of various goods standing scattered throughout. They looked almost lonely. The cultist, registering my wandering gaze, stopped and grabbed a random plastic jar that looked like it could be containing peanut butter or something of the sort. The label was faded and partially peeled off. They inspected it from all sides before thrusting it into my hands. "Here, open it," they commanded.
"I certainly won't," I replied, a mix of rage and apprehension bubbling in my chest.
"Aren't you curious?"
"No. But if you are, go on and open it yourself."
They grunted, grabbing the jar and unscrewing the red lid. They dropped it to the floor where it bounced off once and rolled away into the darkness. Peering in, their expression remained unchanged. "Nothing. Look." They held it out to me and sure enough, it was empty. I let them hand it to me, intrigue winning me over as I started examining the small container. It was completely unremarkable. I reached two of my fingers inside only for the digits to suddenly be stricken with a searing pain. It flashed through my bones like lightning and I cried out, withdrawing my hand. Suddenly, the floor seemed to quiver. The lights in the store flickered, seeming startlingly bright for a split second only to turn dimly green once more. The cultist let out an involuntary shriek, staggering back before managing to steady themself as everything went back to its former solid state.
"What the fuck was that?" they wheezed.
"An earthquake?" I suggested, not quite knowing what else to say. My pulse was thrumming in my ears, hard enough to split my head in half. It took me a minute to regain a relative state of calm.
"An earthquake? In another dimension? You're messing with me."
"I don't know! Maybe it was… maybe I was nearly jumping back, I have no idea." I shook my head, ignoring the throbbing pain shooting through my temples. "I don't have it all figured out yet, but it's an emotional response. Whenever my flight instinct gets triggered, these dimension switches happen. It was the jar. The jar is painful inside."
"What do you mean?" they asked, eagerly reaching for the jar and sticking their pinky finger into it. They pulled it back out with a howl, letting the jar drop to the floor. "What the hell is up with this place?"
"How would I know?" I argued hotly.
"Yeah, well. Anyways." All of a sudden, their hand was in my hair, tugging on my braid. They yanked my head to the side, and before I could break out my tentacles or try to snap my jaws at them, I could feel their hot breath on my nape. A scream died in my throat, equal parts painful and shocked. My eyes burned, my vision swimming when the cultist dragged their teeth across my skin, leaving a trail of warm saliva. And then, fast and without mercy, they bit down.
The lights turned bright white. The static buzzing that had been hanging in the stale air changed to the familiar eighties music tunes. Squinting into the sudden brightness, the colors of the countless types of packaged products filling the shelves almost seemed to be screaming at me.
We were back.
The cultist disentangled themself, quickly stepping away from me. I looked up, still dazed, to see why. Frankie Preston had come up behind us, snatching the cart away from the other person and pulling it out of their reach. I immediately scrambled up to wrap my arms around him. "That's them," I breathed. "From the Collective."
"I know," he said tonelessly. His eyes, trained on the blonde, spelled murder. "You should get out of here," he added, addressing them. "The shelves here are rickety, they might fall on you."
The cultist's expression was a frozen mix of suppressed uncertainty and confusion. Still, they held the server's gaze. "You should maybe not… do anything stupid," they uttered, their voice almost equally as flat as his.
"I'm all about stupid."
"Then I guess I ought to leave. See you guys soon. It was a pleasure." They threw us a smile that was faker than Frankie's when he waited tables before marching off, leaving the two of us alone in the aisle.
"Are you alright?" Fran asked, running a hand over my mussed braid. "What happened? I'm so… one minute you were here and the next…"
"We switched dimensions."
"I pieced that together. You weren't gone for long… just a couple minutes." He nervously twisted his wet bubble gum around the tip of his finger, drawing nervous strings.
"Were you worried?"
"Out of my mind," he said in a low voice, not meeting my gaze. "I mean, I knew you'd be okay on your own, I wasn't saying that—"
"I wasn't. I'm not," I interrupted him. "I got out alright, sure I did, but I'm not okay right now." I swallowed. My throat was bone dry. "I need to call Mary Markov. She should hear about this."
Frankie nodded along. "Do you want me to do it for you? I'm certain I can give her an accurate description."
I declined and sat back in the cart. Per my request, Fran brought me home after we'd paid for everything. I needed some time alone to relax and pretend everything was normal. I cleaned my room and then looked through job listings, which I admittedly haven't done in a little while. When I couldn't find any other way to procrastinate, I made the call to Mary Markov, which went about as well as could be expected. She wants to see me tomorrow, though. I wish she'd told me about what. For a newsreader, she's really not very forward with her information.
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
18: something in the caves

Before I begin my story I must maintain that my sentence to death was a wrong and vile thing to do. I maintain that I am not a killer. I did not kill the schoolchildren the authorities decided to hang me for.
My sentence to death, I must maintain, is a huge misunderstanding. There must be forces out there against me, who conspired to put me in prison for this very experiment, this accursed expedition.
I am not deranged. I am not insane.
The man in the odd multicolored sweater paid me a visit a week before my scheduled execution date. “You are the former schoolteacher Chet Adami?” he asked, polite, offering me a plastic cup of coffee.
I nodded, taking a sip. “I didn’t kill those kids,” I reiterated, for about the thousandth time. “Are you the uh, priest guy? That comes before-”
He shook his head and waved away the guards. “My name is Canopy Hydrangea,” he introduced, extending a hand. I shook it. “I understand you may not be guilty, despite what the state believes.”
I nodded. “Finally, someone who-”
He cut me off. “I’m not interested in your story. Whether you die or not is of no consequence to the people I represent,” he continued. “But I am here to offer you a deal. There’s a place the people I represent need exploring, and I need volunteers.”
He produced a sheet of paper and a pen. “This agreement,” he clasped it into my hands, “has you join a team of expendable, uh, volunteers such as yourself on this expedition. You get in, get the things we need, and get out- and you’re free for life.”
This was better than dying in prison.
I asked him what place this was that I’d be sent to. He told me I had to sign the form first. “I’ll do it, then,” I cheered, signing the document.
He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll even give you a whole new identity,” he offered. And with that, he seized the document away from me and left the building.
Within hours I was blindfolded, sedated, and transported. When I awoke I was strapped to a bed in a helicopter, with four others beside me, all beginning to wake up.
The man who’d offered me the deal was there too, sucking on a lollipop while rearranging documents and photographs.
These images, I assumed, was the place they wanted us to explore. They were mostly all aerial photos, a sea of endless green and the occasional bird. And yet, there was more- images of impossible landscapes, dreamlike beings.
“Ah, you guys are awake!” he clapped once, and walked over.
The next few moments were a flash as he re-injected us with some sort of blue, wriggling substance. It was cold, and I swear it pulsed inside my arm.
Then we had landed, and the group was quickly taken inside a compound. We were freed and sat down in some sort of meeting room. More people were inside.
A blue haired lady joined the man.
“Welcome, volunteers,” he announced, pointing to a projector. “You are all, save for one, prisoners on death row,” he reminded. “This offer today is simple- you enter the forest, travel to an outpost we have recently lost contact with,” he turned on the projector, displayed a bright red cylinder labeled ‘SYSTEM RECORDER-A32’, “and recover this data module.”
The woman spoke next. “Easy, right?” she counted us. “We’ll provide maps,” she gestured to tablets. “But this forest is different.”
They proceeded to explain the reason they need ‘volunteers’ for the assignment then.
We were on an island somewhere in the Java Sea. The island had a massive forest in the center, one that at first glance seemed as normal as ever. This changed when an international mining company sent in a team of geologists to determine if there was anything of note beyond the forest.
This team never returned.
Nor did a second team, armed with weapons. Or an environmentalist group that ventured in to document new species. So then the organization our recruiters had come from entered the forest.
We were on the outskirts of the forest, at a place they were calling Ake Base.
Over the past month, they had begun to map the forest and determine why so many hadn’t returned. The reason was illogical- the forest was bigger than the island itself.
Drones that ventured in should have come out the other side- yet remained inside the forest, encountering bizarre phenomena and creatures undocumented.
Every so often, the forest would slope downwards, revealing a new layer with new and distinct ecosystems.
“Recently though,” Canopy concluded, “we’ve lost contact with several outposts in the third layer to eighth layers.” He changed the slide to one of the lost outposts, standing alone amidst a vibrant, alien forest. “You enter the forest, get to your team’s assigned outpost, get back out with the data and you’ll be set for life.”
“Does anyone choose to rescind their agreement?” the woman asked. “It’s either death, or this, and frankly, your chances here aren’t that better.”
There were some who raised their hands. “Hell no!” a man shouted. “I’m goin’ back to life!” The woman had them taken away. We heard gunfire outdoors. No life row for him.
Whoever they were- they were serious about this.
They started to call out names and assign teams.
My team, was small, four of us. There was a mercenary named Leo who kept talking about the food the organization had brought us. He seemed pleasant, charismatic, and I almost forgot he was a criminal.
There was a scientist called Anya who, as she joked, was ‘serving infinite life sentences’ for crimes against humanity. She was given the codes and a booklet of things to watch out for in what they called the ‘Sea of Green’.
Then there was Gail. She was quieter than the three of us, and had an almost eerie vibe to her. She didn’t tell us what she’d done to get here, but she was there nonetheless.
Thankfully, we were given the closest- and safest outpost. A little place in Layer Three, marked by the map as only a few hours walk away.
We set off the next day.
The forest, in the beginning, seemed to almost invite us in. The birds chirped and danced, unafraid of mankind. We even fed them the nuts we’d been given as breakfast rations, which they seemed to enjoy.
About an hour in, things changed. The light from the sun barely pierced the canopy, and at times, we had to utilize our flashlights to see what was in front of us. Leo took the lead, hacking away at the branch and vine in front of us.
The forest was starting to look like a jungle- and yet, as we traversed it never seemed to choose which one it wanted to be.
“Wait!” Anya hissed, as we crossed a stream that seemed oddly familiar. She read from the booklet, then to the map on tablets we’d been given. “We’ve made a circle.”
Leo shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he insisted. “I don’t remember turning.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, catching up from behind.
Anya shared the booklet. “It’s one first phenomena researchers encounter,” she explained. “This place plays tricks on us- we need to follow the stream.”
“But then,” Gail pointed out, “we’d be going in the wrong direction.”
“Trust the book,” Anya concluded. We followed the stream then, and the path started to grow denser, as if the forest hated us for traveling further. But the path was right, and the forest changed as we journeyed.
An hour later the forest had changed. It had sloped downwards a bit, inviting us to the second layer of the maze. The trees seemed higher, and the light was now gone completely.
This was when we started to hear it. Click-click.
“What was that?” I asked, turning. Click-click.
Anya rushed through the book. “It’s not documented.”
Click-click. And then we saw lights in the distance, lights that as we continued walking, were revealed to us as bulbous fruit on the trees that glowed an eerie electric blue.
Click-click. “You sure it’s not in that book?” Leo questioned, switching his machete out for a gun. Click-click.
The clicks were getting louder, each one sending a jolt of uneasy fear down my spine. We moved closer together now, fearing the unknown that were in these- A bush in front of us rustled. Leo aimed his weapon.
A deer- no, something like a deer popped out, gently squawking. It was… wrong in every sense, but it seemed more occupied in chewing a flower than us.
The small creature had the antlers of a deer, yes, but it also had the face of an old man. Not to mention six fists full of thumbs at the end of its legs. It inspected a glowing fruit with it’s odd thumbs.
“Ew,” Gail commented, disgusted. “What the hell is that?”
Anya didn’t have time to look for answers before a black, insectine limp shot out of one of the bulbous fruits and impaled the deer-thing. It screamed an all too human scream and struggled.
We backed away- and by then, the noise was overwhelming. Click-clickClick-clickClick-clickClickclickClickclickClick-clickClick-click. They erupted from every single one of the bulbous fruits, and things began to pour out of them.
The limbs, see, were attached to a head. The a simple sphere that opened into buzzsaws of teeth that grotesquely clicked as they opened. The face-deer only screamed as the clicking creatures devoured it.
“Run!” Leo reminded, shooting as some started to near us. “Run!”
That shook us out, and we ran, terror in our very veins. They seemed more interested in the fallen deer than us- but we still ran until we could no longer.
Actually, it was until I fell off and entered the third layer.
A weight appeared on my chest and I fought it off, thinking I was about to die- but the soft, furry creature atop me jumped off. It wasn’t one of the clicking monsters.
And then I realized the third layer was bright. The trees themselves were glowing now, not the insect fruits of before. And there were a whole host of new, bizarre creatures.
The thing I’d pushed off was some sort of rabbit, covered in glowing blue stripes. If layer two had been a forest of darkness this was it’s very opposite.
In the skies there were ribbons of glowing creatures- thin kites on an unseen wind. The trees were alive with all sorts of furried friends, darting here and there and eating odd colored berries that didn’t seem real.
Anya pointed and spoke, “Look!” It was the outpost, in ruins.
“But what attacked it?” Gail murmured, as we walked over.
We entered through a hole in the wall. The place was oddly peaceful, calming, now home to bioluminescent little ants that dotted the place. Occasionally, one or two of the face-deer would appear, licking the dots up with twin tongues that emerged from it’s too-human face.
“Cute,” Leo joked, picking one up and stroking it. It screamed back at him, chilling and he dropped it. “Never doing that again.”
The place was… too peaceful. And- “what happened to their bodies?” I posited. “If they were attacked- where’s their blood? Their corpses?”
Anya shrugged. “It is odd- perhaps they got devoured.” She gestured to the many oddities around us. “But you’re right, there should be bones, at least.”
This was when we heard the screaming. And all of a sudden every single creature retreated away, disappearing from view, save for the tiny ants inside with us. The screaming was a cacophony of voices, realer than the ones we’d heard from the face-deer.
“I think we need to go,” Leo whispered, holding out the red ‘data module’ in his hands. “Now.”
The screaming got ever closer, and the trees in front of the outpost, beyond a window, started to shake. “I concur.”
We were backing away when we heard the squelching of something loud and heavy. Turning around, we saw the screaming creature we’d heard. It was massive, fleshy, and filled with tiny gaping holes, some filled with eyes, all rising, breathing as one.
I nearly threw up. But that was for a different reason.
The holes were one thing. But the screaming, severed bodies of dozens of people attached the the eye-full monster was another. They screamed and screamed, their bodies unneatly joined and sown into the creature.
It sniffed the air and walked over to the glass, looking in as we hid. “What is it?” I squealed. “What the hell is that?”
The face of a victim in military clothes appeared at the window, screaming, face slowly popping, skin repairing and being digested all at once. Anya flipped through the pages. “They called it a Fleshweave. It absorbs bodies and eats them that way.”
That would explain the lack of bodies we’d seen.
The window shattered- and the thing began to force itself on it, flesh turning to churned cylinders through the window. The bodies, crushed further, screamed some more.
So we ran as the beasts fell into the room with a plop. And despite it’s heavy, gluttonous form it charged forwards, faster than it looked.
Out the outpost we went. I felt a meaty hand hit me and then I fell. It stalked towards me, but a gunshot from Leo burst it’s pus-ridden hand, covered my in grotesque, viscous liquid.
I picked myself up and ran from the screaming thing, up the steep slope and climbing onto the second layer.
I fell again, but Anya caught me, helping me up.
Leo did the same for Gail- but she slipped and fell back into the third layer. The thing approached her, all of it’s pulsing eyes upon her. “Help me!” she bellowed. “Don’t leave me-”
Leo prepared to jump down- but it was too late. The Fleshweave simply picked her up and it opened it’s skin, forging her into her body- er, her top half,- it severed the rest.
“Go!” I snapped, dragging the mercenary to action. The creature behind us lifted itself onto the dark forest and continued to follow.
Gail, merged with the other unfortunate bodies, screamed. I almost stopped in terror from the sound, but flight-or-fight forced me to continue.
Click-click. We found ourselves back in the center of the abode with the insect fruit. And the insects were clearly attracted to the stench of decay the monster emanated. Limbs emerged, and the face-beetles jumped up and swarmed the creatures.
I don't know if the creature was killed by it. I only remember Gail’s face as the insects started to pick her body- and so many others like her- apart.
The way out seemed harder than going in, but we made it. We survived. We reached the outpost and handed our data module to the man who’d offered us the deal. “Impressive,” he congratulated. “You’re the first team back.”
“I want out now,” I panted. “Back to real life.”
He patted me on the shoulder and gave me a sad smile. “According to the world you’ve already died by suicide in your cell,” he informed. “See, there’s a way the people I work for have operated so cleanly for the past few centuries.” He paused and took a step back. “We can’t afford loose ends, see, and you’ve shown us you have the guts to survive Bandai La- er, the Sea of Green.”
I took a step back, panicking. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “We can’t give you a new life and risk exposing our operation here,” he explained. “And we still need ah, expendable people to lead us to whatever’s in the center of the island.” He handed me a can of soda. “Welcome to your new life. The Company really values your dedication as a treasured employee.”
​
​
But I don’t want this. I was promised freedom. And they can’t keep me from exposing them- I’ve typed this up and Anya did something to the tablet so I can receive and post things online.
I’m not sure if this’ll work. But if it is: I’m on an island somewhere in the Java Sea. There’s a forest that goes on forever and I’m being held as some sort of explorer by some Company.
Find me. Before I die.

Looks like the Bee saw my earlier post.
They call attention to the fact that, for the most part, people enjoyed outdoor dining during the pandemic. Today, the program that's supposed to make outdoor dining permanent is crumbling.
How does Reddit feel about this? Personally, I'm dismayed that the Al Fresco program is inefficient, and I consider it a failure. The only thing it has accomplished is removing parklets and outdoor dining from the grid. Summer is here, and I would really love to enjoy dining on R street, or in the pop-up near Beast and Bounty. And who doesn't love the Rind's parklet? While I understand the need to change it to be ADA compliant and what not, its unfortunate that the Al Fresco program is prohibitively expensive to allow for the Rind to retro-fit their parklet. From the article:
"Yet $20,000 won’t cover retrofitting all patios to meet city codes. That’s one reason The Rind is removing its L Street patio, owner Sara Arbabian said, along with the strain it put on her small restaurant’s kitchen staff. To be compliant with the city’s new requirements, The Rind’s lifted wood patio needed a ramp or wheelchair lift, better drainage and to ensure that their structure didn’t stress the roots of a large tree that sat in the center. It’d cost $30,000-$40,00 to renovate on top of sunk costs".
The article mentions that some restaurants have managed to make the Al Fresco program work for them, but these restaurants seem like exceptions to the rule. At this point in the year, it's mind-boggling to me that we are still this far behind and no new parklets have been completed. Of the 85 restaurants that applied for the initial temporary grants, only one of them has applied for the formal program. This makes me think that the new program is prohibitively expensive.
Serious reform is needed here IMO. Open to your thoughts as well. Going to paste the article in the comments.

I work for a retail store and I’ve seen a girl that works in another department that I found pretty. I saw her once inside the store and we had a 5-second stare-down then we smiled and that was that. A few days later I saw her in the parking lot, we had the same stare-down but I ended up say hi and smiling and she did the same (I kinda saw her staring at me first but she didn’t break it when I noticed). That same day I saw her near the pizza stand where I was talking with one of my friends, she came out of nowhere and asked me if I liked her pizza. I panic a lot when Im in the heat of the moment so I just said Im not sure Im about to try it. I know, Stupid.
A few weeks later I was working inside the freezer and she needed stuff from inside, but she couldn’t get it because I was using the Pallet Jack (basically a thing to move pallets around. I brought her stuff where she needed them and left for lunch. When I came back she was done moving her stuff from the pallet into the float (which is a big cart for retail workers to put boxes on) I asked her if she needed help and she said until 2 seconds later she she said she may need help. (Nobody really helps other departments because every department have their own managers, I was just being generous there). I helped her and then went on to do my thing. 20 minutes later I needed the float she was using so I went to her and asked her for it and she said I can take it. However, she followed that by saying “You can have all the floats” in a flirty way. Later on that day I saw her at the door when I was leaving and she asked me if I was leaving and it was still early. I told her I came at 4 and she said get some sleep.
A day later, I saw her again, at the door, this time she saw me carrying a bag with cauliflower and eggplant in it, she asked what it was for and I told her Im from the middle east so Im making middle eastern food, she said she loved the middle east (or middle Eastern I can’t remember ffs) and that was that.
Last Sunday I went on a 15-minute break and I didnt realize she saw me from the window behind me until later on I saw her outside when she was leaving. She approached and asked why Im still outside and if I needed a ride (nobody in my life ever asked me that) i said I don’t leave just yet and I had a little bit left.
Yesterday, nothing major happened I helped her like last time and she did the same but when I was leaving she didn’t say bye or anything even though she saw me.
Today, I found out she wants to transfer to another store in 3-4 months.
My friends think I should ask her out for coffee or something but Im unsure.
Ps; the reason I put (23F?) is because Idk her exact age but I know for sure she’s older than 20. She just looks 23 in my eyes lol.
TLDR: I work at a retail store and I had a few encounters with a girl from another department. We exchanged smiles and greetings, had a conversation about pizza, helped each other with work tasks, and had a brief interaction outside the store. However, the girl mentioned she plans to transfer to another store in a few months.

I've seen, over the course of the last few days, several users showing pictures of their filament drying in the oven, and this concerns me, especially since new users come here for inspiration and advice and will see those posts and think it's okay to do. Heated plastic creates toxic fumes that will coat the inside of your oven. You cook food in your oven. Having dry filament is not worth risking your health and safety.
Please, purchase a dry box, a $60 investment for a decent unit will give you consistently dry filament. And pick up some extra large ziplock bags and a pack of dessicant pouches (they have types that you can chuck in the microwave to re-dry them once they absorb too much moisture).

Sometimes when you look into the mirror, the mirror looks back.
William Bailey's forehead shattered the mirror like a sledgehammer. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was the feeling that he was falling through the mirror. Sub-cranial hematoma, a concussion, maybe even a cracked skull--that had to be the reason for the strange feeling. The mirror was mounted on the wall just to the right of the bar, four feet tall by about three feet wide. As consciousness slipped away, common sense and his strong belief in the rational world told him that he couldn't fall through the mirror. He must have bounced his head off the wall and be falling toward the floor.
It seemed like just a second or two before William's eyes popped open. He lay on his back, on the hard wood floor of Fausto's, with Johnny Davis towering over him. Big Johnny probably wanted to finish him off, maybe kill him, and finally end their twenty-year-old feud. Either Big Johnny Davis and the ceiling lights above him were spinning, or William's head was spinning, but either way something wasn't right.
He raised his head and looked to his left, toward the bar. Except the bar wasn't there. Instead, he was staring at the bathrooms. That didn't make sense. It must be his brain that had gotten spun around. William turned his head and peered over his size-ten wingtips at the busted mirror. The wooden frame and most of the glass still clung to the wall, the rest sat broken on the ground. The bar had to be on his left. He looked again, and still saw the bathrooms. A brain bruise, maybe some fluid pressure building up might be the cause of it.
"Get up!" Big Johnny Davis said.
William looked up at him. Johnny stood behind him, just beyond his shoulders. Perfect place for him to stomp my head into the plank floor. Except Johnny Davis was holding out his hand.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here."
Davis looked scared. It was the first time William Bailey could ever remember Johnny Davis looking scared. William had always been scared of Big Johnny, but Big Johnny wasn't scared of anything or anyone.
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder. William craned his neck to look where Johnny was looking, saw he was staring at the front door like a man terrified something bad was going to come through it. Big Johnny looked down at him again and pumped his hand. "Come on, get up. They'll be here any second."
"Who?" William asked. "Who'll be--" But before he finished, Big Johnny Davis reached down, grabbed him by both arms, and jerked him to his feet.
As he was dragged toward the door by the only man in town who truly hated him, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door. He had to have a concussion, probably severe; that had to be it, because the letters on the sign were backward. It said TUO.
As Johnny Davis pulled him out the door, William heard tires skid on the pavement.
"Where's your car?" Johnny asked.
William twisted away from the big man's grip, then turned to his left. "In the alley." He started to run, still not sure exactly what he was running from.
Behind him, Big John shouted, "The alley's over here."
William kept running but turned his head back toward Johnny. "I know where the alley--"
Something hit him across the midsection and toppled him to the ground. He got his hands up just in time to break his fall and managed to keep his head from slamming into the sidewalk. When he looked up he saw a shopping cart tumbled onto its side.
Once again, William found himself lying flat on his back, this time amid the spilled contents of the cart. It had been filled with junk: paper bags full of dirty clothes, canned food, bags of potato chips, a diamond shaped, orange road sign, and other trash that looked like it had been collected from back alley garbage bins.
The homeless man who'd been pushing the cart was scrawny, and wafer thin. His skin was the color of old shoe leather, and he wore a long gray beard, tangled and matted with food and bits of filth. He was sprawled on the ground next to his cart, half sitting up, staring at William with his bright blue eyes.
Car doors slammed, men shouted.
"You better get going," the homeless man said, as he cocked his head. "The police after you?"
Police!
Before William could assure the old man that the police weren't after him--he was a respected businessman and family man--someone behind him grabbed him under both arms and pulled him to his feet. William turned and found himself staring into the face of Johnny Davis. "The alley's that way," Johnny said, pointing to the other side of Fausto's. With one hand gripping William's jacket, Johnny dashed across the front of the bar toward the alley. The alley--right there, plain as day--on the other side of Fausto's, right where it shouldn't be, where it couldn't be. William had been here a thousand times. As you stepped out of the bar, the alley was on the left, Brockton's Ace Hardware on the right. Now everything was mixed up and in the wrong place.
Johnny Davis turned down the alley, dragging William behind him. After just a few steps, a spotlight flashed in front of them.
"Stop!" a voice commanded. "Get on the ground."
William couldn't see because Johnny was in his way. "Who's that yelling?" he asked.
Big Johnny stopped and William plowed into his back.
"Get on the ground," the voice boomed again.
William poked his head out from behind Johnny Davis's back. The blinding white light was in his face. He couldn't see a thing.
POP! POP! POP!
Gunshots.
Big Johnny sagged, then crashed to his knees. Instinctively, William bent forward and grabbed hold of Johnny. "What's the matter?"
More pops.
Johnny's big hand reached out and shoved William back toward the street. "Back door," he wheezed, then plunged forward onto his face.
William stood alone. Behind the white spotlight he saw blue police lights flashing. He was totally exposed.
POP! POP!
He saw flashes--little yellow spurts of flame--as something tugged at his jacket.
William had said "back door." What back door? Fausto's had a back door, but it didn't lead anywhere except to the open space behind the building used for trash and deliveries. Twenty feet of asphalt between the bar and the back of the building on the next block. William had parked his car at the end of the alley, but the police cars--or whatever they were--had the alley blocked off. The building behind Fausto's also had an alley that ran alongside it, but the owner had closed it off to keep the bums out. He'd put up a gate, padlocked it, and topped it with razor wire. It was a dead end.
Two more pops. Dead end or not it was better than standing here and getting shot. William turned and ran. He burst through the front door of Fausto's, dashed through the bar, past the shattered mirror, hit the back door at a dead run, and was outside behind the bar within seconds.
He could see the tail end of his car sticking out from the corner of the building, but with the cops blocking the alley, his car was useless to him. William glanced across the open space to the alley that ran next to the other building. The gate, the padlock, the razor wire--all still in place. To his right an overflowing garbage dumpster sat beside the back of Fausto's, jammed against the fire ladder.
The fire ladder.
An iron ladder bolted to the cinderblock wall.
William looked up. The top of the ladder was lost in shadow, but he knew it went up two stories to the roof. Last summer, when the toilet had stopped up, he'd come out back to take a leak and had stood behind the dumpster, peeing against the wall like a kid, one hand draped over the bottom rung of the ladder.
He slipped behind the dumpster. The smell made him gag. The bottom of the ladder was four feet from the ground. William reached up as high as he could, grabbed hold of the third rung, then hauled himself up.
Through the partially open back door came the sounds of heavy feet pounding on the hard wood floor of the bar.
Halfway up the ladder, he was exhausted--and scared. Shaking, he white-knuckled the ladder. Being more than ten feet off the ground terrified him. He needed a break, just a second or two to catch his breath. There was enough moonlight so he could see into one of the second story windows. Inside, junk was piled everywhere. Old barstools, a busted jukebox, furniture stacked almost to the ceiling. Years ago, old man Fausto lived on the second floor, but Jake, who'd bought the place from the old man and had decided to keep the name, used it for storage.
Below him, William heard the back door thrown open so hard it banged against the wall. He scrambled up until he reached the top of the ladder, then hoisted himself over the edge of the roof. Down on the ground a voice shouted, "There he is, up there."
Another gunshot. What the hell was going on?
The unmistakable sound of feet--fast feet, in shape feet, boot shod feet--scurrying up the ladder. Standing on the tar and pebble roof, William glanced around for something he could use as a weapon, shocked he was even thinking of such a thing. A five gallon plastic bucket was all there was. It stood upright, filled with rainwater. He picked it up and peered over the edge. A uniformed policeman was three quarters of the way up the ladder. Two more cops were right behind him.
William looked at the heavy bucket in his hands, thought about just dumping the water onto them but knew it wouldn't stop them. There was only one way to stop them, and that was to knock them off the ladder. He thought about warning them, maybe trying to scare them away. But they were cops. You couldn't scare them away.
So why had they shot Johnny Davis, and why were they shooting at him?
The first officer looked up and saw William staring down at him with the bucket in his hands. Their eyes locked for just a second and the cop stopped. In those eyes that stared back at him, William saw an almost maniacal determination that sent a shiver down his spine. The officer held his grip on the ladder with his right hand while his left dropped to the pistol resting in his gleaming leather holster. In one smooth motion he drew his gun and raised it toward William.
William Bailey tossed the bucket down the ladder. A shot rang out an instant before the heavy bucket thudded into the cop's head. Like a gruesome traffic accident happening before his eyes, William couldn't help but watch as the policeman fell, taking his two partners down with him. The last thing William saw before he turned away was a jumbled heap of black uniforms resting on the concrete below the ladder.
* * *
Hiding in the shadow of a telephone booth, thinking. Home. He had to get home. Had to get back to Marge and the kids. Maybe somehow he could explain what had happened. Vincent, his attorney, he would know what to do--maybe--but he was a civil lawyer not a criminal attorney. He wrote contracts and did personal injury on the side; he didn't get people out of jail who'd killed a cop by dropping a bucket of water on his head and knocking him and his buddies off the side of a building.
As the cab he'd been waiting for pulled up, William stepped out from the dark and climbed into the back seat.
The driver turned around. "Where to?"
William pulled the door shut. "Uptown. 1721 Audubon Court."
"Fare's gonna be about fifteen dollars. After dark, I gotta have the money up front."
"What?"
"Company policy." The cabbie shrugged. "A lot of drivers been getting stiffed."
William opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty and handed it across the seat. The driver took it and almost slipped it into his cash box, then took a second look at the bill. His face tightened. "What the hell is this?"
"Huh?"
With the bill stretched between his hands, the cabbie stared at it for a second then looked up at William. "You're either the dumbest counterfeiter who ever lived or you've been had."
"What you are talking about?"
The driver faced the bill toward William but didn't hand it back to him. "It's printed backwards."
William looked at the twenty-dollar bill in the man's hand. It looked like--it was--an almost brand new bill, nothing wrong with it as far as he could tell.
"Get out of my cab," the driver said.
William didn't know what the man was talking about but knew he didn't want to get out. This cab was his only way home. He reached for the twenty. "If you don't like that one I've got another--"
The driver pulled his hands away. "I ain't giving this back. I got to turn it in to the police." He dropped one hand behind his seat back, then came up clutching a pistol, an old German Luger by the looks of it, the muzzle aimed straight at William's face. "In fact, I bet they give me a reward if I bring you in with it."
William jerked the door handle and rolled out into the street. He sprang to his feet and ran, the driver's yells just background noise. Has everyone gone crazy or is it just me?
Home. He had to get home.
* * *
Rain. Driving, relentless rain. William was just two blocks from Fausto's. In two hours, that's as far as he'd gotten--one block an hour. Police cars prowled the neighborhood, shinning spotlights into every nook and cranny, lighting up every shadow. Everyone in Fausto's knew his name. He'd been going there three or four nights a week after work for years. The cabbie had his address. William had given it to him when he told the hack driver where to drop him.
Ten o'clock at night, with nowhere to go and no way to get there, William sat behind the closed Goodwill store, under an overhang that barely kept the rain off of him.
Huddled in the dark, head sunk between his knees, he hadn't heard anyone approach.
"You don't look so good."
Startled, William looked up, prepared to run again. It was the homeless man he'd knocked over outside the bar. The one with the shopping cart and the leathery skin. William relaxed a little. "Excuse me?"
The man pushed his cart closer. "You're not supposed to be here."
William looked around. "Why not?"
The old man grinned, half his teeth gone.
William found it nearly impossible to tell his age. The guy could be forty and maybe had lived a hard life, or perhaps he was a well-preserved seventy, pickled by a lifetime of booze. William waved him off, expecting a plea for money. "I can't help you."
The old man stopped just a few feet away. "Everything's out of place isn't it?" He had a strange lilting voice. Almost like an accent.
And he was right. Everything was out of place--from Johnny Davis to the cab driver--everything was wrong.
Strapped to the back of the old man's shopping cart was a plastic sign about the size of a loaf of bread. William recognized the sign, the words, the colors, the logo of a local supermarket chain, all were familiar to him, but the letters were backward, unreadable.
Rainwater ran down William's face. He pointed to the sign. "Why's it written like that?"
The old man looked at the sign then back at William. "Like what?" he said, then shuffled away behind his basket.
* * *
The rain came down even harder. William slouched in a darkened doorway across the street from Fausto's. Nothing made sense. Everything was messed up, backward, out of whack. Almost like this wasn't his home, like he was a stranger seeing it for the first time.
But that was crazy. He'd grown up here, gone to Brother Martin High School, dated Jenny Underhill who went to Cabrini, lost her to Johnny Davis, then got her back only to lose her again the first year of college to some kid who drove a Mustang. Two years later William married Marge at Saint Luke's. They had two kids.
This town was his home. He recognized it. He knew the people here, Big Johnny and Zeke, the bartender at Fausto's. But things were different, little things. John Davis for one. In trying to help him, the big man had gotten himself killed. That wasn't John Davis--at least not the one William Bailey had known since seventh grade. Everything looked the same but wasn't. Nothing was quite right.
But they knew him--or someone like him.
A strange sensation crept over him that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Maybe he didn't belong here. Maybe everything wasn't as it appeared. Maybe this wasn't his home. But if that were true, then whose home was it? Another thought, even scarier seeped through his brain. If he was here, who was there--at his home?
Crazy.
William dropped his head into his hands. Just considering such nonsense was a waste of time. Yet, here he was scanning the street, thinking of going back inside Fausto's, back to that mirror.
Not much time to think about it. The bar closed at three AM and it was already two-thirty. When he'd left--run for his life with Big Johnny--most of the mirror was still in the frame hanging on the wall.
Something about that damned mirror.
But Fausto's was dangerous, so a couple of hours ago William had found another mirror. In the men's room of a twenty-four hour gas station. The Chevron on North Rampart.
He had approached it cautiously, afraid he was going mad. As he peered over the sink into the mirror, he saw what he always saw, his own reflection. Holding up his left hand, he looked at the image in the mirror, at the watch strapped to his wrist. He noticed that the man in the mirror wore his watch on his right hand. Just the opposite.
William stood in the gas station bathroom for twenty minutes before he worked up his nerve. Finally, he took a deep breath, leaned back, then slammed his forehead into the dirt-streaked mirror. The glass shattered and cut his head. Blood dribbled off the tip of his nose into the sink. His reflection stared out at him from the other side of the mirror, blood running down his face, too.
I have gone crazy!
So the gas station hadn't worked out. Ducking police cruisers, William had wandered the streets, his head reeling. What was he doing?
On the sidewalk, he found a sopping wet magazine that the wind had blown up against the side of a newspaper machine. The cover caught his eye. He picked it up. It was printed backwards, the letters reversed, words running right to left. The spine was on the right. As he flipped through the pages, he couldn't read a thing. Then William had an idea.
In the bathroom of an all night restaurant he held the wet magazine up to the mirror. Perfect. The reflected image was normal, spine on the left, words running left to right, all the letters printed correctly. He could read it clearly. But what did it mean?
Then he drove his head into that mirror. The glass cracked. Someone walked in, a skinny waiter wearing an apron. He stood gawking as William leaned over the sink with tears of pain filling his eyes.
The waiter looked at the broken mirror, then jabbed a finger at William's bloody forehead. "What the hell are you doing?"
"An accident," he mumbled, pressing his fingers against the fresh cut.
The waiter turned. "I'm calling the cops."
William Bailey ran.
Now he was huddled in the rain staring at Fausto's across the street. Because he had nowhere else to go.
He stood and walked toward Fausto's. When he was halfway across the street, a police car glided around the corner, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. The cops in no hurry, just cruising. William forced himself to keep walking, not to run. One foot in front of the other. In the downpour, odds were that the cops wouldn't even recognize him.
But they did recognize him.
The police car slid to a stop as its high beams clicked on and its blue strobe lights started popping. Both front doors flew open.
Like a sinner seeking the sanctuary of a church, William ran straight for Fausto's door. As he burst inside, Zeke looked up from behind the bar. "William! What the hell are you doing here?"
He ignored the bartender, running right past him, eyes focused on the broken mirror and its busted frame hanging on the wall.
Zeke again, "The cops been looking all over for you. Say you killed two officers and--"
Behind him the front door banged against the wall. "Police!" a voice behind him commanded. "Stop."
But William didn't stop. He kept running--running straight for the mirror. Reflected in its fragmented pieces he saw two uniformed police officers behind him, heard their boots pounding on the wooden floor. Just ten feet separated him from the mirror. At full speed he took two strides then dove. He stretched his arms out overhead and tucked his chin into his chest as his feet left the floor.
He felt one hand hit wall and the other strike broken glass. Then his head hit. More glass cracked, more skin split.
Darkness.
* * *
William's eyes popped open. He was staring at the ceiling. Rough voices, even rougher hands. They rolled him over onto his stomach and jerked his arms behind his back. He felt cold steel on his wrists and heard the metallic ratcheting as the handcuffs tightened and bit into his skin.
He tilted his head up and rested his chin against the floor. Blood poured down the side of his face; he watched it pool on the floor then seep between the wooden planks. By rolling his eyes up he could just see the empty spot on the wall where the mirror had hung. Lying on the floor, three feet from his head, was the broken frame and the rest of the glass.
The two cops grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet, sending waves of pain through his shoulders and wrists. As they spun him toward the door, one of the officers said, "You're under arrest."
"Why?" William asked.
The officer pressed his face into William's. "Murdering your family for starters."
"My...my family." William felt his stomach cinch and his bowels turn to ice. A thought he'd had earlier in the night echoed inside his head. If he was here, who was there--at his home.
As the cops dragged him across the floor, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door.
OUT.
He was home.

Here's one that got their SGIsplainin' ass BANNED last week - from Why does SGI hate the Shoshu priesthood so much?, from THREE YEARS AGO - first, the OP they're replying to:

Over at the SGIUSA sub, they are discussing how members should just take what they want and leave what they don't about practicing Nichiren Buddhism under SGI.
Someone shared a Gosho quote basically saying that if someone has the same belief as you in NMRK, you should never fight with or even criticize that person.

https://archive.ph/BYmyg

The commenters take this to mean that SGI is accepting of its members being interfaith and practicing multiple religions.
But I've also read quotes by Nichiren that basically show he wanted to DESTROY all other sects of Buddhism!!! (These quotes have been linked many times, sorry not to link them again).
It seems that Nichiren was only protecting the followers of the Lotus Sutra and not other religions, though . So in our modern-day, we might say that Nichiren would have protected both the Shoshu priesthood and the SGI members.
But we all know how hard SGI has fought to keep the separation of the Shoshu and their own members. SGI is constantly belittling and criticizing the Shoshu. It seems pretty hypocritical, especially considering Nichiren wants protection of all Lotus Sutra practitioners, doesn't it? Source

So far so good? That post was from October 24, 2019 - over 3 1/2 years ago. Now here's from a mere FIVE DAYS AGO, from u/Mobile_Taro1969 (sounds like a BOOMER to me):

From what I have researched, SGI members grew the organization and were encouraged to make pilgrimages to Japan if possible.

No. Virtually ALL the money and members have always been IN JAPAN. All of the SGI properties are owned by the Soka Gakkai in Japan (via one or more of their many shell corporations distributed throughout the various countries of the world).
The SGI is NOT "growing"; it is collapsing. The SGI membership is aging and dying, just as the Soka Gakkai membership is in Japan. The Ikeda organization stopped growing everywhere in the mid-1970s.

Over time, their generous donations added up to billions - far exceeding most churches, including the Vatican.

Really? Show us the money, then! We all KNOW the Soka Gakkai hasn't given the lion's share of the money they have to Nichiren Shoshu (or anyone), and the Soka Gakkai has been very careful to NEVER disclose how much it is worth. So let's see your sources! I can't WAIT to see the details!! 😃

Seems the temple high priests felt it 'acceptable' to use the hard-earned donated funds for their frequent drinking parties with the opposite sex and other irresponsible actions.

Oh, really? I'm guessing you're going off those photoshopped pictures the Soka Gakkai mocked up and then got spanked for in court. You really need to do better research!
Whatever happened to Ikeda's 1990 supposedly "eternal" "clear mirror guidance", in which everyone is instructed to assume FULL PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY for everything that bothers them within their environment?? Hmmmm....? Since when has the SGI encouraged COMPLAINING about others?? You really should stop your complaining - Ikeda SENSEI says so!

Frequent requests to stop by the lay organization were ignored.

No, no - this was a power struggle in which Daisaku Ikeda thought he'd be able to take over Nichiren Shoshu and run it however HE wanted. THAT is the ENTIRE problem.

Also, prior to the burning of the Shohondo which was paid for by SGI members

You apparently don't realize that the Sho-Hondo was made of ferroconcrete - concrete reinforced with steel.
Do you really think that concrete and steel are flammable??? Have you ever tried to burn concrete or steel??? Here are images from the DEMOLITION. Enjoy.
[No "burning" was involved, moron. And it was the right thing to do.

the priests had instructed that the cremated ashes of members left in safeguard at the Shohondo, be dumped into rice bags like trash. I was in total disbelief to hear and read of such disrespectful actions - like watching a movie unfold.

Let's see the evidence. SGI members are notorious for making shit up and expecting everybody to just believe them.

Priests like that are not fit to be advisers and examples for others - they are no better than wild animals. The Japanese govt verbally reprimanded the temple priests for their lack of respect and compassion for the deceased and their loved ones. Unfit for their role as head priests, these money-hungry animals showed no remorse as their pockets were already filled they make me sick to my stomach!

Oh boo hoo hoo. EVIDENCE PLEASE

Not true. To set the record straight, their belief is that other faiths are outdated and there is only one true religion. Also, they do not teach to destroy other faiths - a ridiculous statement. (Not a member but I researched enough to know what are false statements.)

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
SURE you're not, SkinBitchy! You're dripping with "I Will Become Shin'ichi Yamamoto!" energy!
Considering that most, if not ALL, the content you posted has been shown to be WRONG, your "research" obviously needs some work. Idiot.
"All religions except Nichiren Shoshu are evil and poisonous to society and must be destroyed." - All Three Soka Gakkai Presidents
Here are Jōsei Toda and Daisaku Ikeda (ever heard of them?) stating plainly that other faiths must be DESTROYED:
Toda:

Intolerance
It should be noted that in the immediate postwar era Sōka Gakkai’s extreme intolerance of other religious faiths did not change in the least. For example, on October 31, 1954, Toda Jōsei mounted a white horse (previously the exclusive prerogative of the emperor) on the Taisekiji parade grounds and addressed assembled members of the Young Men’s and Young Women’s divisions as follows:
In our attempt at kosen rufu [converting the entire world] we are without an ally. We must consider all religions our enemies, and we must destroy them. Ladies and gentlemen, it is obvious that the road ahead is full of obstacles. Therefore, you must worship the gohonzon (sacred scroll), take the Sōka Gakkai spirit to heart, and cultivate the strength of youth. I expect you to rise to the occasion to meet the many challenges that lie ahead. Source

The Soka Gakkai:

"All of orders and religions except Nichiren-sho-shu are heretical religion, and they poison society." - "Shakubuku-Kyoten," p286, edited by Soka-Gakkai teaching section and supervised by Ikeda Daisaku. Source
At the time of Toda's death Soka Gakkai numbered nearly a million followers. Under the leadership of the movement's third president, Daisaku Ikeda, Soka Gakkai's influence increased rapidly. He committed himself to continue Toda's policy 'to destroy other religions'. Source

Daisaku Ikeda:

My two hundred thousand comrades in the entire Kansai district, I hereby desire you to open a general attack under the command of Mr. Shiraki, the chief of the General Chapter[,] on the Tenrikyo, the stronghold of all heresy in the Kansai area. - Ikeda
I desire, therefore, that you, under the leadership of the Youth Division Chief open a general attack, starting this very day, on the Rissho Koseikai, which leads people to hell by delusory doctrines. - Ikeda

There it is. DOCUMENTED.

they do not teach to destroy other faiths - a ridiculous statement.

Here ya go:

Like his mentor, Toda was not speaking metaphorically when he urged the destruction of all other religions. Nevertheless, Sōka Gakkai representatives now claim things have changed. Source

They sure do. It is you and your beliefs that are ridiculous, and you should be ashamed of your LYING.
I am hereby inviting u/Mobile_Taro1969, who is banned from SGIWhistleblowers, to send me a private message with any response or comments, which I will post in its unedited entirety here in the comments, with a screenshot to show it is complete.
If anyone finds any more such necrotrolling, please bring it to the attention of one of the mods so that we can deal with it.

Arcanemigration ch4 Room to grow
As I sit at the edge of a stream near the entrance of my cave i Cast my gaze upon the tranquil scenery, I realize that it holds a newfound significance for me. It has provided me with sustenance, a source of water, and now a temporary respite from the stress of constant work. The fish continue their rhythmic dance in the water.
I reach for my fishing spear, determined to catch a meal to replenish my strength. As I prepare to strike, I hear a faint rustling from the nearby bushes. Instinctively, I grip the spear tighter and scan the surroundings. The eyes of the goblins still haunt my thoughts, reminding me that danger lurks even in the most peaceful moments.
Instead of a goblin that emerges from the brush. It is a creature unlike any I have encountered before—a majestic white pearlescent stag with antlers that seem to reach towards the heavens. Its eyes are filled swirling waves of a blue wisdom and a green of serenity that I have rarely witnessed.
The stag approaches the stream, its graceful movements leaving me in awe. It drinks from the water with a glowing reflection shimmering in the gentle ripples. I watch in silence, a mix of reverence and curiosity stirring within me. Could this be a sign? A guiding presence in this harsh world?
The stag lifts its head, its gaze meeting mine. For a brief moment, time stands still. And then, as if acknowledging my presence, it takes a step closer, its hooves barely making a sound on the soft earth.
In that moment, a realization dawns upon me. The goblins, the battles, the struggle to survive—they are but a small part of a much greater tapestry of the journey to come. There are forces at play beyond my comprehension, and while they may not have taken notice of my deeds, they have sent me a message through this ethereal encounter.
I lower my spear, a newfound sense of purpose coursing through my veins. I will not only defend this sanctuary against the goblin hordes but also strive to understand the mysteries that surround me. I will seek knowledge, forge alliances, and uncover the truths that lie hidden within this world.
With renewed determination, I set my sights on fortifying the cave, transforming it into a stronghold that not only protects me but also serves as a beacon of resilience and defiance. The goblins may still pose a threat, but I am no longer just a survivor—I am a warrior with a purpose.
The stag watches me closely and thoughtfully As I prepare to embark on this new chapter, I offer my silent gratitude to the creature before it gracefully disappears into the depths of the forest.
The journey ahead will be arduous, and the trials I face will test my strength, both physical and spiritual. I may be alone but With the spirit of the stag guiding me, and the scars of my past battles etched into my flesh, I step forward, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.
I am the defender of this sanctuary, the seeker of truths, and the embodiment of resilience. And as I move forward, I carry with me the wisdom of the stag and the unwavering determination to protect what is mine.
Inside the cave, I take stock of my resources. Though limited, they are enough to begin the task at hand. And get to work smoothing down the hard stone again until it is the right shape. Then heat up the rock in my fore and then drip cold water along the edge to shatter bits off to make a sharp edge. Then I find the largest bone in the bone pile seemingly a femur and with some work and supplies I bind them together. Lastly I char the bone to seal it.
{Crude woodcutting axe} Wood-damage : +50% Range:3 Bone: +1 durability Char: +1 longevity
Using this makeshift tool, I venture into the surrounding forest, seeking sturdy trees suitable for reinforcement. With each swing of the axe, I feel a sense of empowerment. It is not just the physical act of cutting wood but also the symbol of taking control over my environment. I am no longer at the mercy of nature; I am the one shaping my destiny.
The axe bites into the wood, and with each felled tree, I feel like it's getting easier. Then chopping the tree into logs and branches. I gather logs and branches, forming a stockpile near the cave entrance. I return multiple times, driven by a relentless determination to create a formidable barrier against any future onslaught. I also collect large rocks from the nearby riverbed, utilizing them to strengthen the cave's entrance.
Hours turn into days as I toil, the sweat mingling with the dirt on my brow. With each passing moment, the cave transforms into a sanctuary that reflects my resilience. The once-vulnerable entrance is now fortified with thick logs and sturdy rocks, creating a formidable barrier that would give even the most determined goblin pause.
As I stand back to survey my handiwork, a sense of accomplishment washes over me. The cave, once a mere shelter, has evolved into a stronghold—a testament to my will to survive and protect what is mine. The scars on my body are mirrored in the scars on the land, each a reminder of the battles fought and won.
With the physical defenses in place, I turn my attention to the interior of the cave. I make a simple stone chisel with a replaceable head and useing the same sharp stone, I shape smaller logs into makeshift furniture—a crude bed, a rough-hewn table, and even a shelf to store my meager belongings. I carve niches into the walls to hold torches, their flickering light banishing the shadows that once haunted this place.
As I sit on my newly crafted bed, a flicker of the white stag's presence dances in my mind. I realize that my soul has been blessed with a simple yet useful ability—a keen intuition that guides me in times of danger. It is as if the spirit of the white stag has bestowed upon me a heightened sense of awareness, allowing me to anticipate danger before it strikes.
(Blessing of the stag) Soul trait The user knows when immediate death is near.
With the cave fortified and made livable, I find a moment of respite. I lay on my rough bed, the scars on my body throbbing with both pain and pride. The journey has been grueling, and the battles have taken their toll, but I am ready to face whatever lies ahead. In that moment I notice some notifications I may have ignored or didn't see before.
{Shelter -> Home} Sufficient upgrades have been made do you accept the ownership of this new Home. YES : NO
It doesn't take long but I say yes after I do other pop-ups make themselves know.
HOME This designation partains to places meant for long term living not just survival and can have major improvements and is meant for months to years of living. Many improvements can be made, few expansions can be made tho and only minor differences can be erected. If major improvements are made until there are none left to make and all minor traps are established then it will automatically move into the [BASE] designation. This designation can trigger only minor events.
There now seems to be a few tabs available to me including (defenses),(furniture),(waist room),(pool room),(the pit),(main room)
[You have now made the first step to living in this world and have gained one new skill and 1 level]
Learned skill [ wood working] Rarity: uncommon The user can efficiently cut trees down and work them into anything from small art pieces and furniture to walls and defenses.
And I guess I need to now see what leveling up is like. It can't be that hard I'll also need to go through my windows and learn everything I can about this system.
STATS LV:6 CLASS:NONE NAME: WILLIAM RACE:HUMAN [WHITE] AGE: 23YEARS OLD WEIGHT: 250LB HEALTH :(LV6 * CON14)= 84 ARCANA :(LV6 * INT33) 198 -198=0 PHYSICAL : (LV6 *DEX10)= 60
STRENGTH : 15 DEXTERITY :10 CONSTITUTION :14 INTELLIGENCE :33 WISDOM :27 CHARISMA :-2 LUCK :10
STAT POINTS :5
I close my eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over me, knowing that tomorrow will bring new challenges. But with the wisdom of the stag etched into my soul and the strength of my defenses surrounding me, I find solace in the knowledge that I am prepared. And with 5 stat points I should be able to see a difference after using them.
The goblins may regroup and seek revenge, or another threat can raise it's ugly head but they will find a changed man awaiting them—a warrior with a fortified sanctuary, a soul.

Partially just ranting/partially looking for advice.
For context, there's a long history of alcohol abuse in my family. My dad is a decent person when he's not drinking, but he went to prison for 17 years after getting really drunk and trying to shoot someone. He currently drinks once a week at his mom's house and smokes weed every day.
I had a cardiac arrest a little over a month after relapsing on alcohol after ten months of sobriety. I overdosed on blood pressure meds while I was drunk, which ended up causing all sorts of problems, but I'm glad I lived and glad that I now know that even one relapse leads to bad things.
The recovery has been difficult and I've been in a lot of pain with bruised ribs and hairline fractures from the CPR. I also have fibromyalgia and serious mental health issues, which I couldn't be on any medication for while my organs were recovering. I'm better now, but it was physically and mentally very painful for three weeks.
My dad came home from running errands a couple days ago and seemed more altered than usual. Later that night, he mentioned that he bought Norco. He wouldn't tell me where or how, just that he saw them come out of a sealed bottle and that they had the right markings and seemed legit. I was horrified and told him that I didn't want any, that they could still be counterfeit, and that I never wanted him to do something like that again. He said okay and told me not to tell anyone. As far as I know, that was his first time buying pills.
I'm really angry that he put the burden of that kind of secret on me, but I also feel guilty for being mad at him when, in his own very misguided way, he was trying to help me. I've been going with the, "I didn't cause it, I can't cure it," model of Al-anon, but at the same time, I feel like if I hadn't been complaining about my pain (or just hadn't relapsed or OD'd) none of this would have happened. I'm worried that it has set something into motion that will lead to bigger problems.
I texted him earlier about not wanting to keep the secret. He said that he was just trying to help, that he threw away the pills, and that I could tell whoever I want. What should I do?

Previous post: https://www.reddit.com/valvereplacement/comments/1363zn2/surgery_in_2_weeks/
Bio: male, early 30s, bicuspid aortic valve, severe aortic regurgitation, severe 6.9cm LVEDD, 3.5cm mild ascending aorta aneurysm, no symptoms other than a significant heart murmur and a visible bounding pulse in my neck. I had the David procedure done, which is an open heart surgery where they repair the aortic valve and replace the aorta root with a synthetic graft. The native valve is placed inside the graft.
Day before surgery: I spent the day hanging out with my wife and daughter. My parents also flew in the night before to help take care of my kid while my wife and I would be in the hospital. I'm quite fortunate to have had essentially no anxiety leading up to the day. From my point of view, I didn't really have to do much of anything so there was nothing to be anxious about :) I tend to only get anxious before a performance or presentation or things like that where I'm responsible for executing something.
Before bed, I washed with the special antibacterial soap and we changed the bed sheets, pillow cases, and my PJs. Chugged a good liter of water before going to bed.
Day of surgery: Woke up at 4:30am. Showered again with the special antibacterial soap. Said bye to my parents and drove with my wife to the hospital for 6am check-in. The surgery itself would start at 8am. They called my up at around 7am to start prep. I hugged my wife in the waiting area and followed the nurse into the pre-op area where they shaved my chest and legs, wiped me down with some antiseptic wipes, and placed an IV. I waited for about 30 minutes once I was prepped, mostly browsing reddit on my phone and sending funny faces to my wife since I was wearing a dorky shower cap thing, before a team of 2 anesthesiologists came and confirmed all the details about the procedure. They wheeled me off into the OR. The last thing I remember is an anesthesiologist apologizing for all the "stickers" (ECG electrodes I think?) they were putting on me. I have no memory of them starting the anesthesia itself (like the mask or IV; no memory of counting down from 5 or anything like that).
A blink of an eye later, I had teleported to the ICU and woke up with a breathing tube, 3 chest tubes, a Foley cather, and like 3-4 more IVs and arterial lines that I had no memory of (left wrist, right wrist, right elbow, right side of the neck, possibly left elbow? Can't recall). It was slightly uncomfortable but absolutely no pain at all. The most uncomfortable thing was that the breathing machine seemed to have its own cadence for breathing and I wanted to breath my own way. I asked them to remove it but the ICU nurse said it was still too early and they wanted to wait another couple of hours. I was still pretty out of it and I'm pretty sure I was falling asleep here and there. My wife told me that the surgeon had come by and said the surgery went very well, and they were able to repair my valve. There was still some mild regurgitation remaining apparently, but nothing to worry about.
That evening, they removed the breathing tube and I had a bit more awareness. The anesthesia was wearing off and I was starting to feel pain in my lungs, which turned out to be from the chest tubes. Initially it wasn't too bad but over the next couple of days it got quite painful if I ever tried to take a deep breath. So I was taking quite shallow breaths and didn't really want to use the incentive spirometer
Woke up in the middle of the night with severe pain in my right lung and summoned my nurse, who administered dilaudid through my IV and it quickly got better.
Day 2: I was surprised to learn that the pain meds weren't scheduled, and they would only administer them if I asked for it. I was approved for 650mg Tylenol every 6 hours, 10mg oxycodone every 6 hours, and some amount (can't recall) of dilaudid and gabapentin. My recommendation would be to set some timers to ask for the pain meds on a regular cadence to avoid it getting out of hand. My right lung was by far the worst, spiking up to 7-8 on the pain scale whenever I took a deep breath, and holding at 3-4 during shallow breaths. No real pain anywhere else, including the incision.
One of the medicines they administered twice was a day was a Heparin shot, which reduces blood clots. It has to be administered subcutaneously which I found to be quite painful, and I grew to look forward the least to this medication. They also had me on metoprolol for blood pressure.
Around mid-day, they removed the Foley catheter which I would miss -- it was quite nice not to have to worry about urination. They had me get up for the first time, drink some chicken broth, and get weighed. I had gained 16lbs in fluids (160lbs -> 176lbs) so they started me on lasix to eliminate some of that. A PT guy came and had me walk to the neighboring unit and back (about 1 minute of walking) and told me to start practicing my incentive spirometer. I wasn't able to get it any higher than 500 before my right lung would start to hurt.
Soon after, they said I was ready to move out of the ICU. A transport person came, helped me into a wheel chair, and wheeled me off. I settled into the new room. Someone came to take some chest X rays with a mobile X ray machine. It shows I had a mild pneumothorax in my right lung; maybe that was why it was painful. They didn't seem concerned about it and said it would hurt less once the chest tubes came out.
Day 3: One of the chest tubes seemed to be done draining, so they came to remove it. It honestly wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. They had me exhale and hum while they pulled it out in one go. Took about 3 seconds and felt funny, but no pain. My right lung pain immediately got better. I was suddenly able to breath a lot deeper than before and was getting my incentive spirometer up to 1000.
After this point, I never really experienced much pain ever again. Except for the god damn Heparin shots.
I kept drinking chicken broth and apple juice as my only source of calories, and the lasix were in full effect at this point so I was getting up every couple of hours to pee. I was something like 168lbs at this point (lost 8lbs of fluids).
I did 3 walks around the nurse station. About 5 minutes each. Had my first bowel movement somewhere around here. By evening time, my doctor cleared me for a regular diet and I ordered a bunch of fruits and a barley soup.
Getting in and out of bed was a chore -- I had to get help from a nurse every time. It took a good 5 minutes to organize all the tubes every time.
Day 4: The other 2 chest tubes came out, and also the pacing wires. Again no pain, just feels strange and ticklish. Easily tolerable. I suddenly had a ton more freedom. Without the chest tubes, I no longer needed the nurse to get in and out of bed. Tried to get in a couple of longer 10 minute walks, but it was definitely a lot harder. My heart rate would go up to 130 and I would need to go back to bed and lie down to get it back under 100.
I also noticed that sitting upright in a chair and eating food would also spike my heart rate, up into the 120s. I would be a little bit out of breath after eating and would need to lie down.
At mid day, they wheeled me off to get my first post-op echocardiogram. The echo results were very surprising: it showed mild-to-moderate regurgitation, and a completely normal LV size -- 4.5cm LVEDD. My surgeon's PA came by to talk about it, and said that the surgeon disagrees with the echo tech's interpretation of the images and would still classify it as mild regurgitation. More importantly, during surgery when direct visual inspection is possible, it apparently looked quite good. They think once the lasix fully drain me of all the excess fluid, there will be less regurgitation. I asked if it's really possible for the LV to shrink so dramatically in just 4 days (6.9cm to 4.5cm) and she said yep, and in fact it's a sign that the valve is working well. I think I wont really find closure on this until my next echo which is probably many months away so I'm putting it out of mind.
They did say they would switch me from metoprolol to hydralazine, which also reduces blood pressure but has the side effect of increasing the heart rate. Apparently a faster heart rate would be good in my situation to help the valve heal (I guess because faster heart rate = lower volume of blood that is pumped?).
To my surprise, the PA said they were going to discharge me ahead of schedule since I met all the necessary criteria. My blood pressure was pretty steady at around 120/80. I was a bit conflicted since it felt safe at the hospital, but I also did not want any more god damn Heparin shots so I agreed to go home.
At home, I had a wedge pillow but it was a royal PITA to get in and out of bed so I impulse ordered an power lift chair rental which they dropped off the next day.
Day 5: The lift chair arrived, which was amazing. I no longer needed help from my family to get in and out of a horizontal position. I did find that it was important to be horizontal to get my heart rate under control with the hydralazine. Lying completely flat, I was at 100 BPM. Sitting up would take me to 110. Eating would get me to 120 and walking would get me to 130. I would need to go lie down after eating or walking to catch my breath and get my heart rate down.
I went for my first outside walk, where I walked about 4 houses down and back (5 minutes).
I took my first shower sitting on a shower stool. I was very cold after -- probably another side effect of the hydralazine as well -- and struggled to warm back up in bed. I was shivering and was worried for a bit whether I had an infection, but my temperature was normal so I think I was just cold.
My appetite wasn't very good and didn't want to eat what my family had cooked for me. I preferred cold, sweet things and ate a lot of honey net cheerios with cold milk.
I filled my hydralazine in oxycodone prescription, and picked up some tylenol as well. I used the oxy once on day 5, and didn't find the need for it after. I was able to get by just fine with tylenol.
Day 6-10: More of the same. Appetite got a lot better and started eating normally. By day 10, I was able to slowly walk a good 15 minutes in one go, about .5 miles. Around this time I also stopped using the lift chair and was able to get in and out of bed solo without too much difficulty. I also no longer needed the shower stool. It was a bit of a regret to spend a bunch of money on the stool, wedge pillow, and lift chair only to use them for 3-4 days, but they did make those few days quite a bit easier so I'm convincing myself it was money well spent.
Day 11-14: Rapid improvement -- on day 14 I was able to walk 1 mile in 20 minutes, and did it 3 times that day. Heart rate is down to 90 at rest now, and eating doesn't really increase it much. I feel good enough to go back to work honestly (just a desk job, and can work from home). I was half thinking I should try jogging, but I have cardiac therapy starting in a couple of weeks so I'll save my energy for that.
I'm still on the hydralazine and tylenol. I have essentially no pain as long as I'm maintaining the sternal precautions. I'm considering stopping the tylenol to see how it goes.
All in all, I have to say it was a pretty smooth experience and wasn't that bad at all. It seems like it's not completely unlikely that I'll need another surgery in the far future, though hopefully it's at least 15-20 years away. But if it's going to be anything like this, then I really have nothing to worry about. My wife tore her ACL in a skiing accident a few years ago and I have to say the recovery from ACL reconstruction surgery was a lot harder than this!

My hamster died about 2 days ago, there was red liquid coming out of its nose and mouth, it was either blood or mucus from infection. When it died, its body began doing what's known as agonal breathing, labored breathing, which lasted about a few minutes.
I decided to bury the hamster in a small cardboard box and dig a pretty shallow grave since I didn't have a shovel. The recommended was 1-2 feet, I believe I dug maybe 15 cm. I am inexperienced at this, so I just went with that and thinking once I purchase a shovel, I will dig a deeper one.
Just today, I went to check on the burial which was done in my backyard, and to my shock, I saw that it was dug out. Something must have smelled the hamster's corpse underneath the cardboard, and underneath some layers of dirt and soil, torn through the tape, and the cardboard box, and ate some of my hamster's remains. I saw a half of its body still intact, exposed innards and everything, very traumatizing to see.
I wonder what it could have been, it amazes me how strong and keen sense of smell some animals have, while we humans have to rely on our reasoning ability, knowledge, and technology.
I'm not sure what to do with the half-eaten corpse of my hamster, it was taken out and laid on the grass by the animal that ate it, near the burial area. I don't know if I want to touch it anymore, might just leave it there to compost.

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/o1UJuMM
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Hello there! Hope You all doing better everyday! Since that's gonna be my very first post in here, I already apologise for my poor English skills, as it isn't my first language. A little about me and the anxiety I have: I am a 20 year old guy from Estonia (Baltics), apparently to Your surprise I'm more of an extrovert and working a job at front desk. I smoke cannabis daily (on work-days only before bed), I also use nicotine daily (smokeless nicotine pouches) as well as the caffeine in my morning cup. I suffer under terrible health anxiety, which I haven't really talked about with my doctor. It's become pretty much daily now. Sometimes when I smoke a little too much/or randomly even while sober I'm just, all of a sudden, starting to feel my heart rate going up, getting dizzy, instantly my breathing changes as I'd need more oxygen. When things go really bad, my hands start to shake and I might even have a weird feeling in my chest for a while. And every God-damn time, I'm afraid I'm just about to have some heart-related episode. The fear of death kicks in as my thoughts are rushing faster than the speed of sound. I just hate it all so much. I'm about to go and see my doctor soon, since I already sent her a letter that I wanna check out what's up exactly. I wanna do all the blood tests, ECG for sure (to make sure my heart functions right), spirography in case it should be asthma/something lung related. Does anybody feel me? It sometimes really feels like a slow death. . .

First shot at a recap so let’s see how we do!
Race Info
What – IM 70.3: Chattanooga
Where – Chattanooga, TN USA
When - Sunday, May 21st, 2023
Overall Goals
- PR - Yes (previous PR was a 5:30:12 at Ohio 70.3 in 2022)
- Sub 5:00 - Heck no
- Not blow up on run - Sorta?
TL;DR and Results
This was my 3rd 70.3 and my first with my coach who has been training me since the start of the fall 2022
Swim – 35:07
T1 – 5:03
Bike – 2:49:55
T2 – 3:13
Run – 1:51:57
Total time – 5:25:14
58th in AG (M27), 579 overall
Background
Was a college soccer player (GK) and after college had a foray into BJJ and MMA with a couple fights. Realized that was dumb for longevity and switched to triathlon
Training
Swimming
2-3 sessions a week of 2.4K to 3.6K yards per session. Some workouts are speed focused, some are technique focused, so on and so forth. I have seen a good improvement on CSS these last few month from 1:40 to 1:33. I did swim team as a kid so I have been trying to recapture some of that swim experience. I also felt some recent breakthrough with decreasing my stroke rate and using fewer more powerful strokes. Have been very happy with my improvement these last months. I still remain a terrible to nonexistent kicker
Goal split - 35 Minutes
Biking
typically rides a week. Longer weekend ride and 2 during the week (on zwift trainer) with focus on cadence or power or VO2. I have a big problem with low cadence, recently been trying to get up into the 80s for when I am normally riding. However when I start putting power down I start reverting to the low 70s cadence of riding. As far as FTP I had worked my FTP up to 257 leading up to the start of the season. However I have felt pretty weak these last 2 month leading up to this actual race. It has been harder for me to put the power down. However on the outdoor longer rides I have felt very strong and very comfortable riding for longer periods. Outdoors I ride without power so will probably need to make that investment soon.
Goal Split - 2:30:00
Running
Running has steadily improved with increased mileage and more speedwork. Recent 5K test had improved me to 6:33 for my fastest 5K. Additionally in the most recent half marathon race I had I finished 1:30:12 with a 6:57 avg. biggest issues I have been dealing with are some pain in my left Achilles at the very start of runs that typically disappears after a mile or 2. Typically 3-4 runs a week (1 tempo short, longer run on the weekend, Z2 10k).
Goal Split - 1:40:00
Race Morning
Woke up at 4 AM to get the body rolling. Had my usual prerace breakfast of 2 English muffins with peanut butter and honey as well as a power armour with caffeine and a cup of coffee. Transition setup right at 4:40 to give me plenty of time for the most important part of the morning, THE BM. Went back to my hotel and was able to get showered and dressed up for the race. Headed over to the busses for drop-off to the swim and get to the swim start 20-30 mins before the race start
Swim – seeded myself in the 30-35 minute group and set off! for those that fear swimming Chatty is a great race. It is a with the current swim so it felt like we were flying down the river. Dealt with a slight leak in my left goggle the entire swim which was pretty annoying but it was far from terrible. Also I forgot that in Chatty the swim is actually 1.4 miles instead of 1.2, so as I swam over 2100 yards I was thinking WTF why are we still swimming? This was the first time I seeded myself in the 30-35 min so I did deal with less of the slower swimmers who seed incorrectly. However I did still find quite a few in front of me who should not have been where they were. Mini Rant here, but seriously people why are you doing this? IDK this is just a huge pet peeve of mine when I have to swim all the way around a person (small problems I know...) rant over. But got through it without any real major contact with anyone
35:07 @ 1:23/100 yards - 7:48 PR!
T1 – Never had a wetsuit stripper before! that was fun. But this transition is long as crap. My watch clocked my total transition distance as almost half a mile which was crazy to me. Also I was a little slow getting my socks on today which was unusual. all and all a odd transition where I just felt slow and unfocused on what I was doing.
5:03
Bike – Set off on what had previously been my nemesis for my first 70.3 but felt like I would have an area of great improvement for today! with my goal of 2:30 I knew my goal average speed was around 22MPH, and for the first bit we were well on track! If I look at my average speed through the first 26 miles I was averaging 21.6 MPH. And this is a course with rolling hills most of the way. Goals of the bike were to try and really spin to get through the hill and not stuck grinding it out as this would destroy my legs. Also wanted to keep on my nutrition as I felt this really caused me to blow up on my runs in Galveston and Ohio. Fueling per hour was 1 x 55g carb Gatorade mix bottle and a maurten gel to get to 80 g carb per hours. Would then rinse down the body and sip water through the aid stations. after I burned through my 2 bottles I sipped on the Gatorade endurance bottle taken from the aide stations. In total took 160 g carb + some of the Gatorade endurance for nutrition. So all was going ok until after the "big" climb halfway. Not sure if it was fueling or the headwind that started. But my average speed just tanked. I felt like I had no power. When I tried to flex and stretch my legs I could just feel the damage in them. Not good. Then with the slower speed my mental game fell apart. mile 40-50 I was in a really bad mental spot and had decided at several points to just quit when I got back into transition as there was no way in hell I would break 5 hours. I felt like a failure and a loser. why had I been training 9-12 hours every week to just suck? Talk about a tale of 2 half's. Managed to get back to transition. Mini rant #2 - draft packs... screw you. A literal peloton of 8-10 people 2 abreast 5 deep flew by me at mile 45 and let me tell you I was big mad. Rant over. Also saw a guy lose control at 30 MPH and hit the deck pretty hard, hope he's ok. That was a nice bike to wreck on :( Also another guy almost started peeing on me (I was behind him) near the end and definitely did not use enough water to wash himself down after LOL.
2:49:55 - 20.07 MPH - 11ish minutes slower than PR :(
T2 – Made it into T2 and said alright lets just run the first 5k and see how we are doing then we can DNF if you really are that miserable. So got everything racked and ditched the 10 maurtens I had somehow acquired on the bike. but threw on my trusty Saucony Endorphin Pro 2s and set off
3:13
Run – That first hill out of transition took my already bad mental state and threw it into the fire. So I have never come closer to quitting than that moment. I did not somehow. And then the run flattened out. So after 1.5 miles I actually started to feel good mentally and that's when I knew I was going to finish. I also saw how my pace was going and I knew I would at least PR on the day if I just held the pacing I was doing. after the 1st aid station I decided I wouldn't push too hard on the run and simply walk through the aid stations. avg pace as 7:40-8:00 while running then would walk through the aid stations. in the aid stations I would douse with water and take Gatorade in. Also was putting ice in the suit. I think in total I had 2-3 gels throughout the run? and I stopped at every single aide station for drink and splashing myself with water. Besides the aid stations the only section I had to walk was an incredibly steep little hill right before the first bridge crossing to the other side of the river. That hill is a real ball buster. In terms of improvements I think if I really want to chop some time I have some free time if I don't walk through aid stations. I need to get better at doing that on the run to enable me to get that free time. Also I really didn't push at all my heartrate was pretty much in high Z2 for me the whole run. Also I was dealing with side stitches off and on the whole run so not sure how I can prevent that in the future but if I could eliminate that I would be a much happier camper. Also lap 2 on the run was SO CROWDED mind you there were 3k athletes but man that was a busy run course for the second lap. Saw the shoot and had the tear well up a little. Got over the line and had a quick little 30 second sob so that was that.
1:51:57 - 8:31 AVG - 11 min PR
Final Thoughts
Chatty has me feeling some really mixed emotions. I really was sure I was in for massive PR., chopping 30 minutes off my last PR. Instead I got a measly 5. Maybe I am being to hard on myself or am being greedy with the amount of time I feel I should be dropping? However when I think about it practically it is a much harder course with 2.3K feet in climbing over the bike and 600 or so feet in climbing on the run. So to PR on a harder course is good right? Just a confusing weekend for me about how to feel about it. I think nutrition is still and issue as I am left thinking why did I feel so weak on the bike? I have read some literature that 90-100g carb may be even better now so I think I will implement this into training. Also could I have been tougher and gone harder on that run? If you saw me out there I was in an blue and orange suit with a white helmet riding and old black and blue trek equinox 7 or black running hat. Next race is in July with the Happy Valley 70.3 so I have even more climbing to look forward to there. Will I be able to further PR? Let me know what y'all think of this write up or your thoughts on all this!

Hi Docs!
38F/Canada here. Recently found out my liver enzymes are elevated after having a blood test done, likely due to weekend binge-drinking and being overweight (5'5 and ~200 lbs). My ferritin is also a bit high (by about 10 points past the recommended high). My doctor is encouraging me to stop drinking for a month (I'm 3 weeks in so far and doing great) and then test again to see how much that impacts my enzyme levels.
My longterm goal is to greatly cut down on drinking and to clean up my diet, along with regular exercise. One thing I was too scared to tell my doctor is that I do occasionally (1-2 times a month) partake in recreational drug use (mushrooms, mdma, cocaine). I have also stopped using these as well.
My question is: how much do those substances impact liver enzymes and liver function vs. alcohol? And how much of an impact does being overweight have?
Thank you so much for your thoughts/responses!

Hi all, first time here so apologies if this post breaks any rules.
I'm nearly 30 now and have been living on my own for nearly 10 years and in that time my dad has been blighted by a disability causing him to lose the use of his legs. As tragic as it is, it was always manageable because he had the support of our mother.
It's been nearly half a year since she had a breakdown and was permanently hospitalized due to dementia. Her absence has been huge, and most noticeable in the care my father receives. For some context, my father has always been a very unclean man and that's been a contact all of my life. He's great, but he has never understood hygiene, even when he was well. My mum was always single factor keeping the house in liveable conditions.
Since she's been gone, I've been the only one in a position to really step up and help out financially. I've temporarily moved home to try and help him gain some independence but I'm just losing hope. It's important to remember here that he is, by nature, a very piggish man, even before the disability. So I try to approach the problem to tackle the accessibility issues: I'm trying to make cleaning as easy as possible for him and remove any barriers. I paid for a private occupational therapist who was great and fast-tracked some nursing which he now receives every morning - they come and make breakfast and give him a wash (he typically refuses the wash, but I'm sure as his confidence grows he'll do it more often). I've seen some real progress in the accessibility of the house and his outlook. I do not, however, see any progress in the cleanliness of the house. And please don't read this as me putting a disabled man down - this isn't just leaving things on the floor because he obviously can't reach it - it's the kind of mess which is a genuine health concern. I hired cleaners last month and they charged me double because they claimed the house was in such a dire state. I am not exaggerating, the house was almost back to an absolute state almost a whole week after the deep clean.
It's unsustainable. I'm trying my hardest but I just can't keep up. I cannot be his full-time nurse, and even if I was, he creates too much mess for me to keep up with anyway. He'll make a slice of toast and leave the opened bag of bread on the floor next to the bin and the butter will stay open without a lid for a week, with flies and mould around it as he continues to use it. This isn't just his disability but his mindset. I've typed too much and feel like I'm ranting now, and some of this was therapeutic for me, so thank you for taking the time to read because I'm really struggling stay calm and patient with him.
I think the ultimate point of this post is to ask for any advice - has anybody been in similar situations? What can I do not just to make it easier for him, but for him to want to do it? Full-time care is off the table as the nurses believe he's capable of looking after himself, which I believe is also true. I think having a large, accessible bin for the kitchen would work well too, maybe something electric. Just any advice would be great, thanks.

Hello there, I'm desperately searching for answers for the pain and symptoms I am experiencing. I have been going to doctors and hospitals searching for answers, but I've gotten nothing but a few tests done that have done nothing but add to the confusion.
Let me add some context.
I'm a relatively healthy 21f with no prior health issues. I started hormone therapy (Testosterone, intramuscular injections 1x a week) And started experiencing severe, debilitating panic attacks I had never had before. They tapered off after a few weeks, but then at about 10 weeks, I started to experience entire right-sided numbness and pain. I would feel aching and pins & needles down my hands and feet, my entire right side just felt weaker and heavier than the left, and attempting to lay on that side would exasperate the feeling to the point where my entire right side would feel heavy and achy, and it would become difficult to breathe.
At 12 weeks, I stopped the Testosterone, and the pins and needles, as well as the general feeling of my right side being uneven and numb in comparison to the left subsided... But since then, more symptoms have been sprouting up, and it's getting worse.

• (Shoulder pain) I have this painful area in my upper back, between my shoulder blade and spine, that doesn't go away. It is not tender to the touch, and when I am laying/sitting I mostly cant feel it, but when I stand, it becomes an intense tight ache that radiates through that area of my back and my shoulder. It subsides partially after standing for a while or adjusting my posture enough times.
  
• (Right-sided aches and numbness) I have been experiencing aching pain in my right hand and leg, it's typically triggered by those parts being elevated or constricted in any way (My right arm laying on a hard table would be enough to make my hand start to ache.)
  
• (Facial numbness and drooping) The right side of my face feels numb and droopy, the corner of my mouth visibly droops ever so slightly, and my eye feels heavy.
  
• (Constant headache) I have had a constant migraine in my right side that feels like its putting pressure behind my eye and one side of my neck. It is always there, but sometimes it becomes a sharp throbbing, usually with no apparent reason.
  
• (Blurred/worsening vision) My vision in my right eye is gradually getting worse, and its very difficult to focus my eyes on small text.
  
• (Ear pain, hearing loss) I've lost part of my hearing, and my right ear hurts similarly to my head, constantly aching and sometimes sharply throbbing.
  
• (Dizziness/Lightheadedness) I feel consistently dizzy, lightheaded and out of focus. Standing makes this worse, and the longer I stand, the more difficult it becomes to focus and balance. ANY time I take a deep breathe while standing, I get extremely lightheaded and my vision will tunnel or disappear entirely for a few seconds before returning.
  
• (Difficulty breathing) It feels difficult to get a full breathe of air, especially on the right side, and more prominently when standing versus sitting/laying. One lung feels like it fills unevenly.
  
• (Brain fogginess) I have times (that are becoming more frequent) where I find it impossible to focus, I forget words that I KNOW that I know, and I forget many things. It becomes nearly impossible to hold a conversation.
  

I'm sure there's more, but I'm not remembering right now.
I had a chest Xray prior to the right sided symptoms, during the panic attacks, that came back clear. I've gotten extensive blood tests that have come back clear, aside from a B12 deficiency. They've also had CT and MRI scans done on my head just the other day, completely clear. They won't do any further tests because it seems I'm "fine", and now I'm suffering without answers. I would appreciate any direction or advice, I'm scared and I want to get help before it gets even worse.
Thank you.

Hi all,
I just want to begin by saying for those that experience this all the time/frequently I am so sorry. I will admit for a long time I was a person that just said "oh it's just a bad dream, you're fine" and for that I am regretful for my ignorant thinking for all those years. I had a short but horrifying experience for the first time in my life and it feels like it's still kinda affecting me, even days later. I'm not one that has bad dreams, or dreams in general very frequently but this is one that will probably stay with me for the rest of my life.
Me and my hubby were on vacation at his childhood home for Memorial Day weekend. We had family and friends over, a cookout, yard games, and just an overall great weekend. Once everyone left and we got the house/yard (somewhat) picked up me, hubby, and in-laws went inside to wind down and get ready for bed. I hopped in the shower last so I could take the longest as I needed to wash my hair and hubby and in-laws watched some TV and scrolled on their phones. When I was waiting to hop in my FIL had on something about the Coca Cola 600 that got delayed that day and I was really just scrolling on tik tok and snapchat to see what all my friends did over the weekend while I was away. I showered and when I was done, I joined them in the living room and watched TV with them for about 15-20 mins till my eyes were getting heavy and I knew I needed to go to sleep as we were leaving at around 4 am to head back home (10ish hr drive). I will say when I got back they were watching some of the "spooky" shows of "real ghosts/spirits" caught on camera but that's something hubby enjoys so it's nothing out of the ordinary for us to watch right before bed and the stories we watched weren't anywhere near as scary as what we have seen before.
It was around 10-10:30 when we went and laid down and probably closer to 11-11:15 when we finally fell asleep. Both me and hubby are light sleepers and we toss and turn quite a lot, along with being in a queen bed when we're used to a king we don't get optimal sleep when visiting his parents but it has never been an issue before. We woke up around 2 am, him adjusting the fan to point more towards him and I had to go pee. When I checked my phone right before I fell asleep again to make sure the alarm was set it was 2:07 and I fell back asleep pretty fast. This is where the paralysis kicked in. I had a dream that we were back outside during the cookout and I started to feel a bit woozy and light headed, I walked inside with my MIL and she told me to sit down while she grabs me a water bottle from the garage. I did as she said but when she came back I was on the floor being picked up by what I thought was my husband. I tried to look behind my shoulder to him but I couldn't, and I go super nervous and could only look forward to my MIL standing in front of the couch looking down at me saying "it's okay, you just had a bit too much to drink, you'll feel better soon. (Note: I did not have too much to drink that day/night. I had maybe 3 highnoons all day and never once even got tipsy, I'm not a heavy drinker by any means but I do drink occasionally and can hold my liquor fine and I know that has nothing to do with it.) I kept trying to look back but couldn't but the arms were getting tighter and tighter around me. While at first I thought it was my husband picking me up I quickly realized it was not him at all. Whatever had me didn't even feel human. I was being dragged into the bed room and when I would take a deep breath to scream NOTHING would come out, I tried multiple times and the last time I did my eyes shot open and I realized it was just a dream. I laid there for a minute just staring at the wall to calm down and my mouth was wide open and super dry so I tried to grab my water bottle off of the nightstand to take a sip but I couldn't make myself move. I kinda fought with myself for a bit to force myself to grab the bottle but stopped when I felt the arms slide around me again. I tried to move, even just clench my fist together, I could maybe flinch my fingers in the slightest movement, just enough to know my limbs were still attached but they were completely useless. I heard my husbands voice for a split second, I couldn't make out what was actually said but it sounded like him and then it just didn't. I was like a crescendo of whispers, on top of more whispers, all saying something clear as day but getting muffled out but the others. I couldn't make out anything but I felt surrounded by the noise and it just got louder and louder. I could feel myself getting scared again and wanting to scream but the same thing. I would take a deep breath, go scream but nothing would come out. I realized then that I was having sleep paralysis and just thought "it's okay, you're okay, this isn't real, it's just a dream, it'll be over soon." I kept repeating that to myself in my head over and over again for what seemed like forever while the arms around me seemed to pull me in closer and tighter and then the whispers suddenly stopped all together. Silence. Like an eerily, sudden silence that almost hurt it happened so close to the loud whispers. I hear a distorted version of "my husband's" voice say "oh, is it? are you? are you sure?"
Then I finally came to for real this time. My eyes were wide open and all I could make myself do was move them around for the first few seconds, looking around the room making sure it was real this time. My breathing was super short and fast, heart rate felt like I had just sprinted a full mile. Under my pillow I moved my fingers to touch my thumb, again making sure I was really awake this time. Like in my dream, my mouth was wide open and dry as the Saraha Desert, I drank that entire bottle in about 3 seconds and just laid there till my alarm went off. I was a bit in shock just because it felt so real, I had to lay there and make sure what really happened vs. what I dreamed. My alarm started beeping shortly after and once my hubby was awake and moving I asked if I made any weird noises or anything like that while I was sleeping and he didn't remember anything but said he didn't sleep good so he didn't pay much attention to me.
I was still creeped out pretty much the entire trip back. I didn't want to dwell on it and freak myself out even more but it was also just something that kept popping into my mind. I kept apologizing to my husband for talking about it so much, especially since it was just the same thoughts on it over and over again. He assured me it was okay, and I can talk about it as much or as little as I need. Once we got home I took a quick cat nap and thankfully didn't have any dreams or anything but I started house/dog sitting last night and I will say it took a bit of courage to finally let myself fall asleep, especially away from my husband, and in a house and bed that's familiar, but isn't mine. I don't want to develop anxiety towards sleeping but I feel a bit uneasy about it. It was the first time I ever had an experience like that and nothing out of the ordinary happened to cause it. It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life, and I hope the only time it ever happens.