//------------------------------//
// Chapter Five-20 Mg Of Sadness 
// Story: Chasing Dreams 
// by Final Draft 
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	“Yo, buddy! End of the line!” a gruff voice said. Dream Chaser felt a sharp nudge and opened his eyes to see one of the coach stallions standing over him, dripping wet and a smoldering cigarette hanging out one corner of his mouth. They were in front of his apartment, ready to do their ‘end of the line’ inspection, and he was the only thing holding them up. The other three of the crew walked down the aisle looking on and under the seats for damage or lost possessions.

“Right, thank you,” Dream Chaser said, grabbing his bag and trying to stand up. His rear legs were still fast asleep and he fell back into the cushions. The stallion that had woken him didn’t even notice and took a few steps down the aisle.

“Hey, check the back–— I didn’t like the look of that couple that got off at the last stop,” the coach stallion shouted. The first to reach the back let out a moan of disgust, and the other two laughed.

"Really? REALLY?"

"No way I'm cleaning that up."

"What? What is it...Oh, that's nasty."

Dream Chaser didn't want to know what atrocity they'd found, or what had gone on during his nap. A painful tingling sensation was running through his legs when he finally managed to stand up and leave the coach. The rain had not ceased and he hurried to his front door fast as his legs would take him. He fumbled within his coat pockets, trying to find the key amongst the coins which had spilled out of their pouch. Finally finding it, he gripped it with his teeth, unlocked the door, and flung himself inside. He slammed the door shut and slumped up against it, sitting in the darkness of his apartment.

Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he stood up and let his soaking-wet coat fall to the floor. He would pick it up later and maybe sort through the coins to figure out how much money he had left. He knew it couldn’t be much: the only source of income he had were the charities Dream Catcher had set up for him all those years ago.

She had set up coffee cans with his picture taped to them in every corner market. She would run monthly spaghetti dinner benefits. Random donations in the forms of checks or gifts came in the mail daily, which she had always been sure to reply with her thanks.

However, as time passed, ponies moved on, losing interest or forgetting his cause altogether. The cans had been taken down, replaced by ones with a picture of a blind Pegasus filly. The spaghetti dinners, without Dream Catcher running them, had stopped turning profits. The gifts and donations, which had once poured in, now were barely trickling in, and the medical bills began to pile up.

He walked into the kitchen, set his bag on the table, and removed the contents. The light bulb had survived the trip, despite spending most of it under the apples, and he set it aside. The pills rattled in their containers as he ripped open the bag and let them fall onto the table. He picked up each container, squinting at the descriptions on the labels until he found the Altrivin. The capsules were much larger than his previous prescription and he almost choked trying to dry swallow two of them. Coughing and wheezing, he pounded his chest until they cleared his throat.

Before the pain killers kicked in and he became useless, he wanted to replace the bulb in the bathroom; a task he’d done several dozen times before. It wasn’t a simple task for an earth pony. Unable to fly or use magic, he had to climb atop a step ladder, remove the old bulb using his teeth, climb down, grab the new bulb, climb back up, and screw it in. He started by dragging the rickety step ladder out of the hallway closet and setting it up under the socket. Once he was sure it was centered perfectly, he turned to get the light bulb from the kitchen.

His heart stopped and he turned white. Leaning against the bathroom doorway was Dream Catcher, a look of disinterest on her face. Her mane, usually tied up with a blue ribbon, flowed freely down her shoulders.

“You’re going to get hurt,” she said without a hint of concern. Dream Chaser didn’t know what to say, so he just stared at her, but she seemed to look right through him.

“I know what I’m doing,” a voice from behind him said, causing him to jump. He turned to see a younger, more physically-capable version of himself atop the step ladder, getting ready to unscrew the burnt out bulb. The ladder shook as he balanced himself on the top step, gently turning his head with the bulb between his teeth.

Dream Chaser watched as he managed to unscrew the bulb and descend the ladder, tossing the dead bulb into the trash can. His younger self walked over to Dream Catcher and stared into her eyes until she smiled. They kissed and the real Dream Chaser felt a knot in his stomach tighten.

Dream Catcher had been carrying a new bulb in her tail and she offered it to Dream Chaser. He took it with his teeth and climbed back up the ladder which shook with every step. Carefully, he screwed the new bulb in, turning to Dream Catcher when he’d finished. She tugged the pull switch for the light and the bulb lit up brightly before burning out like the one it had replaced.

The real Dream Chaser had closed his eyes due to the sudden burst of light. When he opened them, he was alone once more. The rumble of thunder moments later made him realize the flash had just been lightning, and everything he’d just witnessed was his mind playing tricks on him.

He returned to the kitchen, grabbed the light bulb out of its box, and limped back to the bathroom. His legs were starting to act up again, but he wanted to get the task done so he could relax. With the new bulb securely wrapped in his tail, he climbed the ladder and began unscrewing the burnt out one. Once or twice in the past, he’d broken the bulb with his teeth and reluctantly had to call a handipony to deal with it, while he went to the doctor to get slivers of glass removed from his gums and tongue.

The bulb squeaked as he turned it and he could hear the filament rattling around inside. After several stressful minutes of making sure he didn’t apply too much pressure to the bulb, he finally managed to get it out. It was too much of a hassle to dismount the ladder so he arched his head and flung the bulb into the trash can. To his satisfaction, it landed directly in it and shattered with a pop.

He brought the new bulb to his mouth with his tail and repositioned himself under the socket. His knees began to knock, causing the ladder to shake violently, and he tried to steady himself. When the spasm subsided, he climbed to the top once more. He reached his head up and tried to get the bulb threaded in the socket. It was the hardest part of the task and he missed several times; his neck beginning to cramp up from the odd angle.

Almost, almost, he said in his head each time. He felt the muscles in his legs starting to constrict again and knew he had a matter of seconds to get the bulb threaded. Another spasm, more powerful than the last, ran through his legs and he gasped, releasing the light bulb. He had to lower himself down several steps and wrap his arms around the ladder for support. With his eyes closed, he heard the pop of the light bulb as it shattered on the floor. He wanted to cry and cursed himself for not buying another.

When his legs finally decided to cooperate, he lowered himself to the floor and heard the crunch of glass beneath his hooves. He stood there for a moment before bucking the ladder angrily. It smashed into the wall of the shower, taking the shower curtain and rod down with it. White-hot pain coursed through his joints and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. It took him several minutes of heavy breathing to calm down and he looked at the mess he’d just made.

“You’re useless,” he said to himself, “Can’t even change a light bulb.” He limped into the kitchen, planted himself in a chair, and put his head in his arms. Tears rolled out the corners of his eyes and pooled onto the table. He sniffed and sobbed until the clock in his bedroom chimed four o’clock, at which point he raised his head and looked at the medications spread out on the table. One by one, he stood them up neatly with the labels facing him.

Beneath the kitchen sink was a drawer overflowing with prescription bottles. Whenever he’d gotten his prescriptions filled, he would take the Altrivin out of the bag and toss the rest in the drawer. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t need anti-anxiety medication, or anti-depressants or any of that other stuff.

“Take one daily for depression,” he read off of the first orange bottle. What did he have to lose? He unscrewed the cap and took out a green capsule, which the label said was Tovale, rolling it around in his hoof before swallowing it. “Muscle relaxant?” he read from the Cinelin label. “Probably should have been taking this all along.”

He took all of his medications, except for the sleep aid, and waited for them to kick in. Most of the warning labels said not to take on an empty stomach so he opened the bag of Sweet Apple Acres apples that had cost him almost forty bits and a great deal of public humiliation. After a few bites from the first apple he’d eaten in ages, he decided it was almost worth the trouble he’d gone through. Almost.

The Altrivin kicked in before the other medications and Dream Chaser went to clean up the mess he’d made. He removed the step ladder from the shower and used it to reattach the shower rod. Although it wasn’t broken, the stepladder was certainly less stable than before. Regardless, he put it back in the hallway closet, knowing he’d be taking it back out again soon enough. He grabbed a broom and dust pan and swept up the tiny shards of the light bulb, finishing just as the other medications began working their magic.

The sensation came over him like a wave, a feeling of euphoria, almost but not quite comparable to winning a race. His legs felt like gelatin and he nearly fell into the shower on his way out of the bathroom. He stumbled into his bedroom and fell into his bed where he listened to the rain pound against the window and thunder roll across the sky. Lightning lit up his room, illuminating the box of memories he’d left on the floor, and he could see the coin still sitting on top of the photos.

He wanted to continue his trip down memory lane, but he dared not turn on the apartment lights during the storm. The idea of replacing more light bulbs because of a power surge really didn’t appeal to him. Instead, he lay there staring at the clock, his mind swimming in a sea of unfamiliar chemicals.

Out of the waters of Dopamine and Serotonin swam a faint memory. A gift his father had given him long ago was still sitting in the back of his closet. Clumsily, he rolled off his bed and opened the closet door, staring into the darkness. He pulled out boxes of dusty awards with his name on them and dresses that had been his mother’s, before finding one of the lanterns his father had managed to smuggle out of the mining operation.

He remembered setting it up in their front yard on summer nights and watching the fireflies gather around it. His parents would watch as he and Dream Catcher chased the glowing insects around, although they never actually managed to catch one.

After grabbing matches out of the kitchen along with several more apples, Dream Chaser set the lantern up next to the memory box on the floor. He lit the wick, adjusted the flame, and grabbed the next photo out of the box.