You somehow manage to fall asleep easily, considering how stressed you've been feeling. Before you realize it, you're swimming in the lake once again. The water feels cool and soothing on your skin, as if it's healing and purifying your body. You dive into the middle of the lake, swimming deeper and deeper. You feel your lungs aching for air, but you refuse to comply. The water is so pleasant and inviting, you can't bear to remove yourself from it. It surrounds you like a fluid blanket and you forget about everything except how peaceful it is inside the lake. You experience true bliss for the first time in your life.
And then, you begin to cough. Bubbles explode from your nose and mouth. You can't stop your reflexes from breathing in two lungs full of water. Now you can feel the water inside you, still cool and gentle. It caresses you inside and out. As you feel the life drain from you, you continue sinking deeper into the darkness that will cradle your body forevermore.
Gasping violently, you throw your sheets off the bed and rip off your clothes. Your body pulses and writhes as you kick away your pajama bottoms. You want nothing covering you, nothing smothering you. You want to feel the sweet air on every pore of your body.
Slowly your gasps subside as you recover from that horrible fantasy. You look around your room, which is awash in the glow of the morning sun.
Cold sweat coats your skin. The faint odor and sudden chill from the evaporating sweat make you twitch. You get up, still somewhat groggy, and head to the bathroom. You wet a towel and rub yourself down, not caring about the risk of transformation. You dry yourself off with another towel and return to your room, feeling much cleaner. You put on a fresh pair of underwear and pajamas, as it would be pointless to get back into the sweaty ones.
The time is 7:48. You're so disturbed by your nightmare you can't even think of going back to sleep. You decide to get an early start on breakfast instead.