As he pushed against the door, Dermot could feel a huge weight upon his shoulders, both physically and psychologically. He hoped this feeling would be short lived, as he needed to shed weight from his tired shoulders, not add to it.
The door swung slowly open and he fell through, falling, spinning into darkness. Where was the light? Where was the end of the tunnel? He had felt so close, he had truly felt so close, now he realised how little he had actually known. He had trusted his feelings, gone with his instinct. He had delved into the unknown on so many levels and was now in the lap of the gods, As he tumbled through the air, he awaited his fate.
Suddenly he realised he had stopped falling, yet there had been no landing. He opened his eyes, rubbing them furiously, trying to gain focus. Everything was blurred, he rubbed his eyes some more. He felt different, different inside and different outside. The blurring faded and he began to see, more clearly, objects around him. He quickly realised where he was. He frantically tried to piece together where he had come from.
It wasn't a dream, that he could tell. But it wasn't quite real, too many rough edges.
As he desperately tried to order his thoughts, one kept washing over him again and again, like a gentle tide lapping the shore. He concentrated his mind, and soon wished he hadn't. The incident he had hoped to change had aleady occured. He remembered this day well, he remebered this feeling well. He had managed to rewind time and had condemned himself to another 23 years of misery. He wished he'd never pushed open that door. He sighed, resigned to his fate. There was nothing he could do. Well, there was one thing he could do, but he had tried that 23 years ago, tried it today in fact. It could never work. Could it?