The dark pavement stretches a good kilometer across the high-end neighborhood. Houses decorated with colorful lights that blinks and pulses illumination from every home. Beautiful lampposts cast away the darkness that floats over the pavement that I walk on. With only two blocks left on this dark road, I keep a steady pace.
My eyesight is highly compromised, but my hearing and smell is excellent. I can hear the wind whispering low incomprehensible sounds and words that frighten me a little, the darkness don’t help. It smells like cinnamon rolls and spices from all the houses, its Christmas time.
I’m on my way home from work; it’s a position as sales manager at Wall Mart. It was a surprisingly slow day considering the season, almost no costumers what so ever. They’re probably at home preparing for the feast and celebration that awaits them.
As I ponder this, I suddenly hear a large banging from the opposite side of the street. As a turn my head toward the sound, I see s tall dark man-like silhouette. He’s banging a red dumpster using a baseball bat with fierce hits, again, again and again. I’m dumbstruck by what’s happening in front of me. I stand there mesmerizingly watching the destruction from the man. This terrifying rage he exudes with every hit scares me. This is not a youngster who’s bored and decides to take it out on a random dumpster. This is an adult who should know better than to destroy private property, but chooses to do so because he needs to do it.
This realization wakes me up from my thoughts and I notice that the banging’s has stopped. To my horror I saw that he has turned toward me, he looked at me for a while then yelled with a deep angry voice “Hey, Lady!” A surge flows through my body and sends flight impulses everywhere, compelling me to run. So I did. I ran as fast as I could. I ran past an intersection without stopping, thank goodness no one drove through. Past all the houses with the snowmen’s, fake candy cones and screaming blinking lights. The man ran after me and kept yelling “stop lady stop“, with a pleading voice. I ignored him and kept focusing on the one block that remained before I was home.
Then I saw it, my small “Christmas is magic” sign that stands on my lawn. I take off to the right from the pavement and run across the lawn towards the house up the stairs to the porch and stop at the door. I fumble for my keys in my purse panicky, I struggle and behind me I hear “miss, for fuck sake, stop!!” he’s furious now! I hear the scream coming from the lawn, he’s really close.
Finally I get the keys and push them in the lock and turn, I hear the familiar clicking sound when the lock unlocks. I rush inside to the pitch darkness that’s my entry hall. As I turn speedily to smash the door shut, I see his face for the first time. In that split second I see the rage mixed with such a beauty, the man is maybe in his forties but has a face of beauty, no lines, nothing you could classify as blemishes or “mistakes”, Except for his eyes that burns with rage, age and scars of time.
I push the door but he hits the door open with such force that I tumble backwards and fall to the floor. He bends over me and puts his hands around my neck in a chokehold. I try to resist but his grip is too tight! I can feel myself panicking and dosing off slowly. He doesn’t say anything, no explanation, nothing, just the same cold furious stare. I fall asleep and I can feel myself lifting, floating leaving my body, I hover over my body and look down over myself and the man who sits still, with his hands still around my neck. When I glance over my face I notice that it’s not my face, she’s not me! Suddenly she opens her eyes and looks at me and says “Help me”.

I wake up with a jerk when my cat Leo jumps onto my lap. I’m disoriented, and confused. I must have been dreaming… I kiss Leo on the head and scoff him gently towards the rest of the sofa. I notice the newspaper in my lap and remember reading the FrontPage: “26 year old Emily Hanson murdered in her own home”.
I look at the big blowup photo of Emily and immediately recognize her! It’s the girl from my dream! I open the newspaper and start to read. “Authorities don’t have any convincing evidence that puts either an assailant or any witnesses to the crime scene. The police have opened a tip line for people who have any information on the incident.”
“Oh no, here we go again”.