"Goodnight," I whispered to the little lady next to me and pecked her lips for the last time that day.
I then pulled a crocodile sleeping time death roll to swallow all the covers my 6'6" frame could wear in a cocoon of comfort. I laid on my side and stared at the blinds that were illuminated by the soft glow that creeped in the window from the streetlight across the road. Wake up, shower, school, study break, eat, class, dinner, study and now here I am laying in a dark room. I shut my eyes only to see T charts equaling a bank's assets and liabilities and how a bank's balance sheet changes from the addition of deposits and checks that has yet to be cashed. I saw how the Dodd Frank Act did not pass and where future regulation may occur in the future of financial markets and how the Gordon Growth model is affected by a decrease in dividend growth, all scribbled in my illegible handwriting. I shut my eyes trying to call the angel of sleep to bring me into sweet darkness. No dice.
Again I shut my eyes enjoying the void of light as seconds frantically ticked by. Each period of the void was interrupted by the flickering of the television set.
I fumbled for the remote in a spaghetti of covers to end the reign of terror the TV. Is it to the right, no? Is it under my butt, no? Is it under the pillow, no? I then checked flipped the blanket only to hear a POW!, a skittering across the floor and a jingle of batteries. Like a grouchy old man, I hopped into my time machine and turned the TV off manually while trying not to stub my toe.
Again I shut my eyes, but this time I spiced it up and laid flat on my back like a body hanging out in a coffin. Slowly, sleep started to wrap its hands around me as I entered the rhythm of slumber like the ocean's waves. The darkness darkened exponentially until I was gone into the world of pixie dust . I hopped from dream to dream to dream like the plot of a Family Guy episode.
As if I jumped out of a tree, I landed with a thud into a strange house that I had once spent many nights in. I turned around to glance at the front door behind my back, only to see a white door with windows above the peephole that moved left to right and resembled pieces of the NBC logo. The living room wasn't dirty like it used to be. The floor wasn't scattered with XBOX video games, Razor Scooters, and batteries. Instead it was draped with spiderwebs and looked as if a soul had not visited in years. The 30 inch Zenith TV that sat upon the brown coffee table looked the same. The study area the living room opened up to on the left looked the same. The computer that I put hour after hour of NHL 2002 and Diablo 2 still remained. The fake plant still overlooked the gaming station, but it was not the same.
There was an invisible fog settling in that sent shivers up my spine. My head was stuck as though the base of my neck was in concrete. I slumped over to the computer and rubbed my finger across my desk, leaving a long streak removing the built up grime. I lifted my finger close to my face to see it covered in ink. I hear a soft cry from the left and turned my head in that direction. Step by step, my feet scraped across the living room carpet to the hallway that led to the bedrooms of the home. The center marked my grandmother's room, where only a midnight leather chair and a white bed with gold posts lived. I shifted my eyes down the hall to the left, where my mother would sleep and try to tune out the yells and hollers of ten year olds. Out of the rods of my eyes, I saw a light in my old bedroom and the door now shaking violently. I shifted to the right like a character clumsily moved from an ancient Resident Evil PlayStation One Game.
The light remained on and the circular handle continued to rattle as my heart dropped down to 55 BPM, pounding not only in my chest but through the halls itself. One step, two steps, three steps, four steps. My feet chugged until they finally reached the point where the door knob was reachable. I grasped my hand around the door knob like a Diamond Back Rattlesnake's mouth around the head of a rabbit. As soon has my fingertips pressed around the door knob, my whole body stopped in fear as I entered farther than I was allowed to in this nightmare. I traveled by Floo Powder back to the bed I was slumbering in.
I came back to the bedroom with a gasp. My arms were wrapped around my belly like Houdini in a straight jacket. Each belt tightened from the right to the left and suffocated my body. Paralysis overcame me, yet my mind was wide awake. Frozen still, I scanned the room only to see an insidious, black and red faced monster sitting Indian Style in the corner of my room. His red eyes locked onto mine for eternity. I screamed as loud as I could for my body to move and for hot iron to melt the frozen block I was stuck in.
My torso slammed upwards like "Don't Wake Daddy" as I flew from the vortex of dreams back into a queen sized bed. My legs moved, one and then the other, to touch the wooden floor. I got up scratching myself through my boxer shorts en route to the kitchen. I chugged a glass of water and moved out of body in exhaustion back to the open arms of the bed.
I woke up refreshed yet shaken by the terrors of the night before. Every rare case of sleep paralysis that used to welcome me night after night still shakes me to my core. Every nightmare that someone has tears down the ego whether it's zombie Tazmanian devils taking over the world, a girlfriend cheating on you, or a 2005 Peyton Manning being reincarnated to end the Texans' reign over the AFC South. To me, nightmares are nothing more than a culmination of irrational fears that build up over time. As irrational as they seem, the following nightmares would be even more petrifying than the cold blood running through my veins from the night before:
Matt Schuab loses his inability to throw the deep ball. Oh wait, that already happened.
J.J. Watt heads to the IR after having to get Tommy John surgery from throwing out the first pitch on Sunday.
Houston does not draft a receiver in the draft, re-signs Kevin Walter to play WR when Kubiak plays his boom box outside his window.
Roger Goodell removes the cut block from the game and puts the pillow over the face of Houston's zone running game.
The Rapture occurs and takes only Arian Foster while the rest of us are left to wander in purgatory.
Houston fires Joe Marciano and replaces him with John Ralphio. Actually, this would be a great thing.
With Alec Ogletree still on the board because of off-field issues, Houston decides to trade back to take more defensive backs in rounds 3-6.