I Am The Wind Read Online Free PDF

thinking, a new way of coping.
    “Get on with it,” I say, staring up at him.
    I can see him properly now, face lit by the bare lightbulb overhead, hanging from a ceiling the same as the one in Alfie’s cellar. Funny how dreams pull things in from real life, eh? And he’s ugly as sin. His face is covered with scars, ravaged by fire I’d say, and his irises are black, no pupils in sight. He smiles showing me those black teeth, stares down at me, a sinister monolith who’s been sent by my mind to help me. I want to laugh, really laugh, because ordinarily this bloke would frighten the crap out of me.
    He steps back, and a baseball bat appears in his hand. The fact he’s going to hit me with it goes without saying.
    Yep, it’s going to hurt.
    The first strike comes swiftly, barging into my shins, and the second, well, it’s inevitable it would mirror real life. The end of the bat connects with my nose, and this time the bone does shift upwards, does go into my brain. I can feel the bleed, the hot seepage of blood swarming into my head, and for the time it takes to register that I’m going to die, he attacks me some more. Rage, he’s got so much of it, and as I float out of my body and look down on the scene, I find myself feeling sorry for him. Look at the state of him, all angry, expending energy he’d be better off directing elsewhere. On things like smiling, being happy.
    Laughing.
    A bit like me, really. Time to let go. Time to laugh, be happy.
    I return to my body, get the strong urge to bust out of these chains and set myself free. He’s still hitting me, each strike hurting more than the last, my skin splitting with ease. Strength swarms through me, and I push against the binds, the need to get the fuck out of this mess eating me alive. The chains break and I stand, shove past the bastard without shielding my face.
    No hiding behind a barrier anymore.
    I run into the light, then out of it and into the tunnel, my eyes suffering, going from dingy to bright to dark all in the space of seconds. Eyesight fuzzy, I can only hope I don’t veer off the path and fall into the canal, but honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if I did. Crap always happens to me lately, so what’s getting wet in water full of shit, piss and God knows what else?
    Reaching the end of the tunnel, I stand where I was when I first sensed I was dreaming. I turn to see if the monster has followed me. A figure stands in the light at the other end, but it isn’t the same shape as him. Yep, it’s big all right, wide and tall, strands of his hair blowing in a gentle breeze, but it isn’t the same bloke.
    This man walks towards me, and as he draws closer I see he’s wearing blue jeans and a red T-shirt. My stomach muscles tighten, and a smile breaks out on my face. If only Alfie was really here, in this dream with me. The real Alfie, I mean. He’d know then that I’m pleased to see him, that now he’s standing in front of me he can see how happy he makes me. But he isn’t here, and it’s up to me to let him know I’m not going anywhere.
    And make sure he really believes it.
    I wake, disoriented for a few seconds, expecting to be back in the cellar. I’m not. I’m still on the end of the sofa, and I lift my head to glance down the other end. Alfie is there, concern written all over his face, whittling his fingers as though he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.
    “You had a dream,” he says. “Saw your eyelids twitching.”
    “Yeah. Sorry about falling asleep. Must have been the heat.” I sit up a bit, rub my eyes then stretch my arms up. “I haven’t slept that well in ages.”
    “What did you dream about?”
    I tell him, go into great detail about my feelings, my emotions. I may as well let him have the whole of it. What he chooses to do with the information is up to him. I can only hope it makes a difference, makes him see.
    “Jesus,” he says. “I’m sorry, really sorry. What the hell have I done?”
    “You did