In one of last night’s dreams, Dr. O was leading me through a large building. All the while she was doing so, she was puffing on a cigarette. I was surprised she smoked.

Then I had a nightmare where I was home and home didn’t look anything like home, as usual. This home had a back door off the kitchen. Tom just left for work and the sun hadn’t fully risen yet. You could see shapes and shadows but no detail. I opened the back door and spotted the silhouette of what appeared to be a stocky guy sitting on a bench on the patio facing the door, one elbow leaning on the side rest, cheek resting against his fist.

“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded.

Not the slightest bit of movement.

“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded again, louder.

Still no sound or movement. I slammed the door and hurried to lock it only this door required a code to be entered from the inside as well as the outside and I couldn’t simply flip a deadbolt. It was dark and the panel didn’t light up so I was fumbling with the buttons and hoping I was hitting the right numbers. The dream ended with me thinking that I would flip the light on and double-check to make sure the door was locked and then I would run for my phone to call the cops and exit the front door.