It was the same dream I've been having for years.

The rain pelting off the top of my hunder, the darkness around my headlights as black

as ink, the ZZ top song still playing from the speakers, the mansion and the hill still occupied

with a single lit window.

I was too terrified to comprehend what had happened.

What was around me? Normally that would be the part

where I slung over the door and got out, but this particular dream ended as soon as

I engaged the door handle.

I found myself waking up with a headache, similar to a dull throb that trailed a night of drinking.

Only, I hadn't had a drop in years.

It wasn't my sight that first alerted me to the foreign atmosphere. My skin felt fuzzy. It tickled even.

I lay prone on the thick, beige carpet of a room.

The walls were painted lilac and were bare.

This was not my room.

Through my headache fog, I spotted a door and tried to get up.

Once on my haunches I took in the rest.

Above was a simple ceiling fan.

On one wall was a window with thick black-out curtains closed shut. In a far corner

stood a massive stuffed animal in an orange jumpsuit. Next of that was a tall dresser. Closer to me was a nightstand with an unopened bottle

of bourbon on top.

Opposite the nightstand was a twin-sized bed adorned with a thick comforter and a mound of colourful throw pillows.

I couldn't remember where I was or how I had gotten there.

...