Wishing River

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In one regretful instant, it occurred to Margaret Green that she would drown in this river of her own imagination. The night was black, and the stark moonlight could not aid her sight as she thrashed about in the frigid current. Water stung her desperate eyes, whipped her cheeks, and pulled at the skin of her belly and thighs. She stretched her cramping toes to reach the silt and stones beneath her, but it was no use. Tumbling under herself, Margaret mustered whatever fragment of her panicked mind she could find to summon a piece of driftwood for her to grasp upon returning to the surface. As her face broke the water, she opened her eyes to find a massive tree branch plummeting towards her. Before she could outstretch her arms to grab hold or shield herself, she heard an awful ringing pierce her skull and felt the color of night wash over her. She did not know what it meant to die in a dream. She only knew that her senses had dissolved and that the river was holding her close.