The Horrible Thing That Slipped Through My Window One Night
By the time he made it to his room, his nerves had calmed a little bit, but that feeling of wrongness was still present. He absently glanced at his digital alarm clock and allowed his buzzing mind to intake the time. It was six o' clock; just a half hour before his buddy Rick and a few of his other acquaintances would be drinking cold beers and scouting out horny girls from the lower classes. Tom wanted to go; he wanted to be around other people for a little bit, but he ultimately decided it was a bad idea. Horny girls didn't seem to care much for him as it was; he really didn't want them to see him blowing out gray-pink chunks of food. Besides, he doubted if he could handle even one beer in his current state.
He finally ended up laying down in his bed, trying to drift off. It wasn't easy to do; he would come close, his mind just beginning to reach that world where senselessness and imagination both exist in harmony, and then that pang in his gut would bring him back to alertness, and he would find himself looking through the window at the foot of his bed, where sunlight was still shining onto the roof's dark shingles. He would become aware (all over again) that he was hot, sweaty, and uncomfortable. After the fourth or fifth time, however, he finally fell entirely asleep.
And he had a dream.
He finally ended up laying down in his bed, trying to drift off. It wasn't easy to do; he would come close, his mind just beginning to reach that world where senselessness and imagination both exist in harmony, and then that pang in his gut would bring him back to alertness, and he would find himself looking through the window at the foot of his bed, where sunlight was still shining onto the roof's dark shingles. He would become aware (all over again) that he was hot, sweaty, and uncomfortable. After the fourth or fifth time, however, he finally fell entirely asleep.
And he had a dream.