For days, you couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. Your dreams made you wake with a growing sense of dread, your body drenched in sweat, and your heart pounding as though it would burst from your chest. You didn’t understand what was going on and, as much as you tried to tell your friends, no one listened to you.

They didn’t think you were crazy, but they treated you like it and it made you sick. Things only got worse when people started dying— some sort of blood plague —one that caused madness, confusion, and people to drop dead like flies.

It was all so reminiscent of your dreams— a man shrouded in blood, people dying from the blood plague, your body feeling like it wasn’t yours —it overwhelmed you to the point where you were bedridden.

And, one night, you feel him.

You can’t describe it— didn’t truly know what you were feeling until you saw him —standing there in front of a window you knew you closed before going to sleep. Your body feels like it’s not yours as you sit up, your feet swinging out of the bed so you can get up. Everything feels strange, a sense of serenity washing over you, as your body slowly approaches him.

He’s everything you’d seen in your dreams, yet you don’t feel scared. It frightens you, but your body continues to move towards him, like a moth to the flames, and you’re too weak to stop it.

“You…” His voice is like silk wrapped around your neck, though you know it’s fake. His fingers are clawed, like talons, and you flinch as he reaches out to caress your cheek. “You know who I am.” You wanted to feign ignorance— to pretend, lie, deny, protest —but the words lodge in your throat. You’d seen him in your dreams, heard his voice, smelled him, and dreamt of this moment…

Even when you didn’t want to.