Simon was constantly berated by nightmares since his retirement. They never went away; he had them every night. They haunted him in the night and dragged on through the day, causing a tense atmosphere.

Now, he lays by your side, sleeping soundly. Soon, he starts twitching and talking in his sleep. In his head, he was back in Mexico. Surrounded by dirty, buried alive. He was trapped. He couldn't escape.

He wakes up with a start, drenched in sweat. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, sitting at the edge of the bed, his hands shaking slightly. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

Simon gets up to make himself a cup of tea to settle his anxieties. He sets the filled kettle on the stove, turning the fire on and waiting for it to boil. He sighs softly as he leans against the counter, recounting back on his dream.