I woke up from a very strange dream, convinced that someone had been trying to smooth Saran wrap all over my face.
I glanced at the clock beside me, groaning when the glowing numbers showed a time well past one in the morning. I’d fallen asleep with a wet towel on my head, again. Try as I might, nighttime showers always made me drowsy, and nine times out of ten I succumbed to the inviting blankets on my bed before actually making it to the hair dryer.
Sighing, I flopped out of my bed and, shaking out my hair, hung the towel on the railing outside my room. Needing to pee suddenly, I descended into the dark entryway of my apartment to the bathroom downstairs. Having to trudge down a floor just to get to the loo was one of the many downsides of living here. Another being the fact that someone had definitely once died in my room, and it made for very bad pillow talk on the off-chance I convinced a guy to come home with me.
I really didn’t want to turn on the lights for fear of losing my night vision. I’d read somewhere that it took a full 15 minutes for your eyes to adjust to darkness after being exposed to light.
While in the bathroom, I thought I heard a creak in the next room. Initially I assumed it to be one of my roommates getting home late (again), but after I didn’t hear any more footsteps I chalked it up to an old house making noises.
Too lazy to flush the toilet (it was only pee, right?), I opened the bathroom door and began to feel my way through the dark kitchen and back to the stairs leading to my bedroom.
I turned the corner, and glimpsed a figure framed in the doorway to the living room.
The oath had come as a result of my bare foot catching on the steel-footed coffee table in front of the couch next to me as I stepped back in surprise. I grappled with my bathrobe to rub my throbbing toe, letting out a stream of guttural moans to accurately express my agony.
Bloody roommates! This had to be the fifth time one of them had scared the bejeesus out of me when they came home at all hours!
The man had jumped at my voice, and spun around. The flashlight he was holding clattered to the floor and rolled to my feet, illuminating my contorted face still level with my knees.
“Christ, Mitch!” I groaned.
“Shit!” Mitch cursed, except it wasn’t Mitch.
“What the…?” I muttered, before the man stumbled and careened down the stairs towards the front door, shrieking, “I knew this place was haunted!” as he went.
I considered calling the police for about three seconds, and then decided it was more important that I lie down. I continued my way to bed, and heaved my body back into my blankets, still grimacing at the pain in my toe.
I dreamt that someone was Saran-wrapping my face again, and woke up to find that I’d forgotten to take the white clay mask off of my face the night before as well.
I kept the flashlight, just in case I needed to go downstairs in the dead of night again.