Dreamland

The troops were housed in the Baracks.

A large pig-faced dog tried to come up the stairs and get at Gus' dog bowl, but I kicked it back down. It was much too big for Gus to tackle, so I handled it myself. Unfortunately, my kick woke Woowoo Charly, Gus and me in dramatic fashion as it was accompanied by my shouting get out of here or something like that. Back to back nights of kicking episodes, weird. If I'm supposed to be writing from whence my dreams are born, maybe I should try horror.

The night was still and quiet as death apart from the breathing. There was mine, shallow and rapid as a frightened bird that I tried to choke down so as to better hear the other. It was the other that didn't belong. It came from across the room where the dark was deepest and had an audible rasp like a suppressed growl. It was pacing, moving from side to side. I could hear nails or claws scratching lightly on the floor as it made its tight turn, going back and forth, back and forth. All our windows are barred as is the custom here and the lone exit door was somewhere in the dark beyond the breathing. There would be no escape. I scrunched back onto the bed making myself small in a fetal position. The breathing was louder now, the pacing faster. I knew it would come for me soon. There was only one thing to do. I coiled and waited. If I was to die I would die fighting. When the pig-faced beast sprang from the dark with lips curled back to show hungry fangs dripping saliva, I did the only thing I could. I kicked out with all my strength, screaming as I did so.

"Doc! What the fuck? Wake up. Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you?"