This nightmare is painful.

So excruciatingly painful, like fire burning through my veins, like ice freezing my skin, like acid dripping into my eyes. I can't escape it.

Somehow, I know that I'm tossing and turning in my sleep in the real world. I can feel the sweat running down my face, mingling with salty tears. I know that I'm dreaming, but that doesn't make it any less painful.

There are hands grabbing at me. They're everywhere: spiked and scaly hands grip my legs while thin and bony ones stoke my chest. Nails dig into my sides, drawing blood. I feel it running down my ribcage and I fear that it'll stain my bed.

It's not real, Ethan. It's just a dream.

But then there are voices. Scratchy voices join deep ones and tell me that nothing is worth it.

"No." I whisper, panting, "No."

"You are nothing, Ethan." The voices continue. "You're worthless."

"That's not true!" I raise my voice, speaking through my tears, gritting my teeth from the pain. I try opening my eyes, but they're sealed shut.

Something is crawling on me. My phobias take over and I panic. Spiders with dripping fangs, needles full of poisonous venom and an everlasting cold all approach me, all the while I feel dozens and dozens of eyes watching me squirm.

A spider crawls into my ear and I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. The voices chatter, unintelligible words exchanged between sadists and monsters and freaks and whatever else is watching me.

"Ethan." One of them whispers into my ear, chilling me with their wintry breath.

"No." I whisper, shaking my head.

"Ethan." Another leans close to my face, it's breath vile, reeking of death.

"No!"

"Ethan!"

I wake up to my mother looking down at me, her hand on my shoulder, gripping tightly. I lay still for a moment, stunned, before reaching to my ears to make sure that there are no spiders, looking around my room to make sure there are no monsters or freaks or anything else of the sort. And when I'm done, I start crying.

Mom takes me into her arms and hushes me like a small child. I sob into her shoulder and try to calm my racing heart.

Just a dream.

Mom affirms this. "Ethan, it was just a nightmare, ok?" She can see the panic still lingering in my eyes.

I nod and sniffle. "There were spiders. And hands and voices-"

"Sh." She cuts me off gently, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "It's over."

I lay back on my sheets. "I don't know what to do. In real life, I can deal with panic attacks and phobias but in my dreams? I can't control anything. I can't calm myself."

She's silent for a moment. "Maybe you should start seeing Dr. Rowes again. She helped so much last year, maybe it would be worth a try."

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. "I'll think about it. I'm sorry, I must've scared you a lot."

She laughs quietly. "You sure did. Are you ok now, though?"

"I think so."

She squeezes my hand. "If you need anything, just come see me and Dad, ok? Never feel ashamed of needing help from us, Ethan. We love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

She smiles and kisses me on the forehead. I've never been like some of the others my age, ashamed of my parents. They love me, they accept me, and they help me out however they can. I'm lucky to have them.

I turn my lamp on to keep the monsters and spiders out of my nightmares. It takes a while, but eventually I fall back asleep. This time, there are no nightmares.