I dream of being in tan sheets that aren’t mine, in a bed surrounded by photos of people I don’t know. I’m deeply uncomfortable and I want to leave, so I do. I get up, walk through a moonlit hallway, and go into the bathroom with a flickering light. I look at myself in the mirror and notice the towel behind me move, like the magic carpet in Aladdin before it makes itself known. Subtle and coy and strange. It scares me, and I want to wake up.

I wake in tan sheets that aren’t mine, surrounded by photos of the same people I don’t know. I’m panicked that I’m here again and I want to leave, so I do. I walk through the same moonlit hallway, go into the bathroom with the same flickering light, and look at myself in the mirror. The towel behind me moves again, and this time, I feel worse. I want to wake up.

I wake in tan sheets again, and I’m now terrified.

I get up and walk through the moonlit hallway. I go into the bathroom with the flickering light. And instead of looking at myself, I stare at the towel and pray it won’t move, but it does. So I begin to scream myself awake and imagine myself in a bed that doesn’t have tan sheets, surrounded by photos that aren’t me or anyone in my life.

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