Deep Sleep and Bloody Knuckles
In the deep of a dream I hear a sound.
The dream takes a turn as the sound becomes familiar, but somehow alarming.
My heart awakens me abruptly, beating fast and hard before I even realize what is happening.
I spring to my feet and peek through the window a mere three feet from my bed.
The window of the second-story apartment I have lived in for less than a week.
There is a man looking back at me.
Watching me from just outside the window.
On my second story balcony.
At three in the morning.
My instinct tells me to make noise so I begin banging on the window with my fist.
He just looks at me like I am crazy.
I grab the phone and a heavy candlestick and call 911.
The operator stays on the line with me while I wait for the police, listening to the man trying to get into the door off the balcony.
A wait of minutes feels like an eternity.
They arrive and handcuff him before coming to my door.
“Same thing as a couple of weeks ago, huh?”
What? I have only lived here a few days.
“Oh, that’s weird. You look like the girl who used to live here. We were just out here on a call about this guy.”
Only then do I look down to see that my knuckles are bleeding.