I was agitated- so gratefully agitated. The disease had sharpened my senses- not destroyed them. I heard all things. The ball dribbling, the buzzer ringing, and the fans screaming. The true horrific sound I heard was the worst of all. The squeaking, yes the squeaking, of the players shoes going up and down the court.  Dozens of those freshly cleaned Nike’s moving up and down and up and down. The shoes that I was so bitterly glaring at were mocking me, for they had known my displeasure. They were like an older sibling who constantly mocks and picks on their younger sibling.  I hated that sound. The sound of the rubbery souls pressing on to the sweaty gym floor. I was growing insane. I covered my ears but that didn’t stop the noise. Squeak; squeak the high-pitched noise went. It went on for minutes but it seemed like hours. One after another, they repeatedly squeaked ‘Why can’t they just quit the sound!’ I thought to myself. I was about to scream! Then suddenly it all stopped.
I uncovered my ears and heard nothing. With lots of relief I let out a loud lurid laugh. It was all over and I didn’t have to hear that pestering sound anymore.  Presently I heard a slight squeak, and I knew it was the squeak of mortal terror. Oh, no! It had come back! The sound grew louder-louder-louder! And still the fans cheered and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? No, no! They heard! They noticed! They witnessed!  Oh the terror! It had consumed me. The players were no longer in the shoes. The squeaking shoes quickly surrounded me. Quickly-quickly- ever so quickly. I was drowning in a mad pile of shoes. I was drowning in my own insanity. I was drowning in my own anxiety.  I could no longer breathe, for hundreds of pairs of shoes had devoured me.
Ring! Ring! My eyes shot open and I looked around. It as morning and I was in my chamber, lying down. “It was all I dream!” I shouted in relief.  I didn't hear the sound anymore. It was silence and nothing more. I heard the sound nevermore.