First you're all comfy in a nice little two room cabin. Just you and your significant other, out in the rural space, enjoying some much needed down time. Night comes, the fire place is roaring, the bedtime snacks are refreshing and things just couldn't be better.
Then out of the corner of your eye, you see it. A ghost.
Wait, it's not really there, it's just your imagination. The cabin is too relaxing. It's too easy to climb into your bunk and shut the world outside.
But there it is again. Grabbing for you.
It gets you. It won't let go. It's long octopus fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling you from the bed. It's fingernails wrapping back around and into the bedclothes, catching and pulling threads, making ripping noises.
You scream! Again!
You pull as hard as you can to get away.
Then it stops. You roll over and once again are engulfed by a warm breeze and supermodels on the beach. Did you scream or not? Probably not. The memory is all faded now. No ghosts, no fingernails, just the surf washing calmly away the terror and bathing you with smiles.
• • •
Tim asked me when I woke up this morning why I screamed in the middle of the night.
