One: The bedroom door slams shut. My body catapults forward. I’m sitting up in bed — chest heaving like an abused bagpipe. But there is no air entering my body. Breathing is suddenly a foreign language. I try to scream for help. My mouth spreads into a gaping hole, but nothing comes out. I try again. My brain is belting at the top of its lungs, but my actual lungs will have nothing to do with it.
