I jumped out of bed right after the dream – as usual. Then I ran downstairs and turned on as many lights as I could and fixed myself a bowl of cereal. As usual.

This time, though, I couldn’t help imagining that I might be missing the giveaway noise of a killer over the crunch of the cereal. What morbid thoughts one has at five in the morning.

I queasily set down the bowl on the counter – the clink of porcelain sounded oddly like a bullet thudding down a barrel (shut up, brain) – and reflected on the dreams. It was a girl. Always a girl. And she would be running away from something, whether it be human…or not.

I nearly threw up with the terror of it all – and it was all just a dream!

But there was something about these dreams. There was pain, first off. I could actually feel it. Then there were the stupid watches, always saying something-oh-four in the morning. I would wake up, and it would be exactly three hours later.

Exactly.

But it was all just a dream, right?