Your heart is beating fast –so fast that you can sense it almost beat out of your chest.   You won’t stop—you can’t stop, not until you get to the open.   You feel the long, smooth, deep green leaves sting your face on either side as you run.   Stumbling through the seemingly never ending rows you hope that you don’t get caught in the soft earth and trip.   If that were to happen there is no doubt that would be the end.   Even the thought of tripping causes you to breathe at a heavier pace and break out into a sweat.   There is no time to think, no time at all.   All you can do is run. 
What was it?  What could it have been?  You had heard the thudding of footsteps racing behind you, which appeared to be coming after you.   You reassure yourself it was just your friend Samantha.   The one who you had went into the field with earlier that day.   She would have yelled though.   Where is she?  Has she gotten out yet?  You knew you shouldn’t have gone out, you knew should have listened to those voices in your head.   Your conscience told you it was a bad idea.   Why didn’t you listen?  No.   Stop thinking.   You always assume the worst.
Eventually you’ll escape this vast place.   Why did you have to go so far? Why couldn’t you have stayed closer to the house?  You reach out in front of you to wipe the leaves that are blocking your way.   Not caring for one moment, you tear away the leaves.   As you run, you cut through the rows to your right to see if there is an easier way out.   No, nothing there.   You want to catch your breath but there is no way you’re going to stop now.   Why can’t I catch a break?  I should have found the end by now.   How long will I be here?  Will I get lost?
So many questions race through your mind at a million miles an hour—there are so many doubts— so many things that could go wrong—so many things are wrong.    Reassurance, that’s all you need.  Run.  Run.   Run.   You’re slowing down and you know it.   Your favorite, sea blue, zip-up sweatshirt is catching on the slender leaves.   Draining, you want to give up, but you can’t.   It isn’t safe yet.   It’s dark and you need to get home.   You’re scared.   You need to find Samantha.   What if you left her behind?  What if she’s lost?
You’ve seem to be here for what seems like forever.   Panic takes over once in a while, but you keep calming yourself down.   Over and over again.   It helps you.   Your throat is parched from breathing heavily through your mouth.   You wish for water, hoping the end is near.  There is no other option for you but to run. 
Then the next thing you know, you’re covered with the soft earth.   You scramble at what to do trying to make your way to your feet to run once again.   You struggle across the ground in front of you, crawling, slipping, and burrowing your hands into the soft soil that consumes you within it.   You can’t seem to get enough strength or grip to help you get to your feet.   The mud gushes up among your fingers.
Suddenly, you feel what seems to be an enormous hand firmly grab your shoulder.   You notice how the hand easily overlaps you shoulder with no trouble at all.   Its callused digits slightly dig into your collarbone sending and eerie chill over you.    Feeling the strength of this you freeze not knowing what else to do.   The shallow breath of the one behind you is superficial.  Its overwhelming odor of tobacco causes you to cringe.  You don’t dare to look.  Tears start to well in your eyes blurring you vision.  You slowly lower your head to the damp ground.  You have given up.  There isn’t anything you can do. 

Then, you wake up.