Music Before Bed

Music Before Bed

It’s cold, so cold my skin is raised. My nipples are hard, so hard they hurt. Hypersensitive to the cotton shirt rubbing against them. I refrain from teeth chattering.

I try to warm myself up by moving around under my thick, white comforter.

I toss and turn, seeking warmth on my mattress.

My mattress can easily fit three people.

I laugh at that thought since I’ve assigned myself the right side of the bed.

The right side of the bed is closest to my closet.

The inside of the closet is messy and cluttered. All of my sex toys are in there. Neglected.

I’m still so cold and my mind is frantically searching for answers to a lot of whys. I roll my eyes at the flooding intrusive thoughts.

I take a sip of the water glass that rests properly on my black nightstand. I pick it up carefully, too afraid to spill water on my book.

I end up finishing it but I’m left feeling thirsty.

I stare at the ceiling and attempt to clear my mind.

I take three deep breaths.

Helps- but doesn’t bring long lasting relief.

I pull out my phone from under the covers to play some music.

I play my favorite song and set it on repeat.

Spotify has a neat feature that allows you to set a sleep timer. I set the timer to twenty minutes. Plenty of time to fall asleep.

I set my phone on my nightstand, facing down.

I settle back under the covers, lying on my back, my arms to the side, my hands under my butt.

I close my eyes and listen to the song.

I resonate with the lyrics as my chest rises and falls, slowly.

A loud noise forces my eyes open and I instinctively look over to my dog to witness his reaction to the noise. He’s still sleeping.

Unfazed and reassured, I close my eyes again.

The song ends and it begins again.

I sing the chorus in my head.

The loud noise occurs again.

A faint thud against my window.

This time, I sit up on my bed. Again, I look over to my sleeping dog. He’s not reacting.

I go to reach for my phone- but it’s not there.

The music is still playing and it sounds as close as it did when I set my phone down on my nightstand.

I’m confused and slightly alarmed.

I frantically look for my phone on the surface on my bed. I say “hey siri,” out-loud but I hear nothing in response.

My mouth feels so dry. My skin feels so dry.

I look over to my dog again. He’s still asleep. I call his name but he doesn’t react. I see his chest expand and contract smoothly as he sleeps. Normal respiratory effort- I think to myself.

I call his name again. He doesn’t react.

The only light in my room is coming from my window. I’m a bit of an exhibitionist- so I don’t believe in blinds or curtains.

The moon shines into my room, not too brightly this night.

My favorite song continues to play in the background.

I try calling out for Siri again but she doesn’t answer.

I sigh heavily and take three more deep breaths.

I make an attempt to get out of bed.

Slowly, I uncover myself from the protection of my thick comforter.

Immediately, I get hot. So hot. I feel the perspiration building above my eyebrows. My cheeks feel too warm. My throat begins to itch. I reach for my glass of water, but it’s empty.

I get the urge to cough, but I’m unable to. I can’t seem to relieve the pressure building up in my throat.

Confused at the drastic change in temperature, I swing my legs to the side of my bed and sit there. I’m facing my dog who’s still asleep.

I wonder if the whiskey I drank before bed is making me hazy.

I look over to my closed door and I see what appears to be a shadow.

Immediately, my heart rate increases.

I try to push my weight off the bed but I feel so incredibly heavy and fatigued.

I’m tired and suddenly so very sleepy.

My eyes burn and my lids become lead.

I rub my eyes aggressively, hoping for some comfort.

I shake my head as an attempt to refocus myself.

Somehow I’m able to get off my bed.

My bare feet make contact with the wooden floor. It feels cool to touch. A relief from the immense and sudden heat that’s beginning to envelop me.

The song’s chorus is playing.

Despite my weariness, I swiftly walk over to my sleeping dog. He appears so carefree and cozy in his spacious bed. I kneel in front of him and attempt to shake him awake. I wince at the pain that I feel upon applying pressure to the fresh scab forming on my kneecap.

He wakes up very slowly and looks up at me.

His eyes, sleepy and droopy.

He looks up at me, but goes back to sleep.

I speak to him and wait for him to acknowledge me. He doesn’t.

I decide to let him be as he appears to be extremely comfortable despite the temperature in the room.

I kiss his forehead and I push myself off the floor.

I start heading towards the door when I hear another faint thud from my window.

Distracted. I change course.

I walk over to my window. Unsure of the source of the sound, I scan the dimly lit street. Not seeing anything at first, I rub my eyes and scan again. The vignette from my rubbing fades and I peer my eyes open.

At the center of my vision-

I see a dark figure waving at me. It’s holding something bright with the hand that’s not waving.

I didn’t turn the light on in my bedroom, somehow I didn’t reach the switch near my desk.

I stare intensely at the figure.

We have a fenced backyard, perfect for my puppy. I made sure to close both entrances to the yard before coming to bed.

My eyes dart to the fence door to make sure it’s still closed.

It is.

After that confirmation, I turn my head right back to the figure.

It stands tall in the middle of the street, right under the streetlight.

I look around the neighboring houses and everything seems familiar. The streets are quiet and I assume that people are asleep.

I hear the wind chimes from our backyard integrate with the playing tune.

It’s a windy night.

The waving intensifies, becoming aggressively quicker and quicker. The feeling of dread begins to overwhelm me.

I’m panicked.

I can’t find my phone. I want to call for help.

The temperature in my room rises.

It feels like I’m being engulfed in a thick cloud of hot steam.

My mouth becomes drier.

I reach up to wipe the drops of sweat from my forehead and notice my hand shaking. My head begins to ache from the pressure in my room.

The figure stops waving.

The song changes.

I recognize it right away.

I had been playing it on repeat last night before bed.

This is another favorite of mine.

Swing replaces the indie track that was playing prior.

I turn away from the window to look around my bedroom.

I scan the darkness around me. Nothing seems alarming.

Yet.

I try not to focus too much on the music and the absence of my phone.

I choose to ignore the illogical.

I tell myself I’m alright and safe before succumbing to anxiety.

I feel my chest tighten and my breathing becomeslabored.

I turn back to my window to inspect whatever is out there.

The figure has moved. It’s no longer under the streetlight.

I catch a glimpse of it.

I see it slowly making its way into our yard. It’s hovering ever so slightly above the ground, making very slow progress.

Slow, so very slow, it travels to the white fence.

The yard door creaks open and it slips quickly into the yard, closing the door behind it.

I feel faint but also intrigued by its behavior.

Its presence doesn’t trigger the light sensor in our yard.

Again, I glance over at my dog. He’s still asleep.

I’m in disbelief that he isn’t barking at the intruder.

Stunned, I walk over to his bed. I bend over to shake him awake, but he doesn’t react to my touch.

I start yelling his name but still no reaction.

I check his pulse, feels just fine.

I kneel beside him just to stare at him confused.

A scratch at my bedroom door startles me.

I freeze and I feel ringing in both of my ears.

The room becomes hotter and my vision starts to get blurry.

I cower next to my dog as I stare at the darkness surrounding the door.

There are no lights on in the hallway.

I hear the scratching again.

I look over to my dog for a reaction- still nothing.

I hear a distinct meow from the other side of the door.

My cat!

Without thinking, I run towards my door.

I reach for the handle and immediately halt.

I wait and listen.

I hear the music clearer than I did before. The bridge is playing rhythmically right on the other side of the door. I really do love this song.

I hear the scratching again.

I call out my cat’s name in a hopeful tone.

I have to let him in. I have to.

I swing the door open out of both boldness and fear.

It’s right in front of me.

For some reason, my eyes immediately shoot straight to the ground- looking for my cat.

He’s not there.

The music is loud, so loud that it makes the ringing in my ears louder. It hurts.

I’m almost stunned.

My headache worsens.

I think I’m going to faint.

I’m overstimulated by all the sounds present:

the ringing in my ears, the proud bass that accompanies the lead singer’s voice, my heart beating furiously….. the loud breathing from what’s standing at my doorway.

My eyes are fixed on the ground.

I’m too afraid to look up.

I close my eyes shut and pretend that everything is okay. I chant “I’m okay, I’m safe,” over and over in my head.

I hear my cat meowing.

My eyes open without my permission and they greet my uninvited guest.

It looks at me with bright, slanted eyes. No irises to be found, only sclera.

A new song fills the room.

This one has no vocals.

Another favorite.

The bass is strong and demanding.

Its face becomes a bit clearer due the light emitted from my phone.

My phone.

What?

I blink over and over, each time my eyes becoming fuller and fuller with tears.

A tear streams down my cheek, past my jaw, alongside the side of my throat, to disappear on my chest.

It doesn’t blink.

I notice fur makes up most of its body.

At least, I think it’s fur.

It breathes so heavily, it almost overpowers the bass in the song.

I lose the air residing in my lungs.

I gasp.

It smiles?

It steps forward, forcing me to retract a couple of steps.

Its mouth opens up, revealing no teeth or tongue.

It’s moving but no sounds are coming out. It’s as if it were gnawing on the air that surrounds us.

I begin to tremble.

I fall to my knees in defeat.

A fleeting rush of bravery overcomes me as I remember my dog in the room.

I crawl over to him as fast as I can.

He’s still asleep.

As I crawl, I feel the unwanted presence in the room become stronger and closer.

Dread hugs me.

It comes closer and closer to me.

I’m sobbing, making my way with fake courage towards my dog.

Splinters from the wooden floor snag on my knees and palms as I crawl for what feels like ten yards.

Finally reaching my dog’s bed, I cower over him.

A strong desire to keep him safe overcomes my unnerving fear.

I hold him in my arms and I force myself to shut my eyes once again.

I tell him how much I love him.

I repeat it over and over.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so much. Everything is okay. I promise.”

The music suddenly stops.

All I hear is my sobbing now.

I refuse to look up.

I want this to be over.

The temperature changes again.

The room begins to cool and a sense of relief comes over me.

I open my eyes just to immediately regret my decision.

It’s kneeling in front of me.

Watching.

Unable to speak out of fear, I squeeze my dog in my arms and I stare back at its white eyes.

I see my phone in its hand. The screen is turned off now but it reflects the moonlight.

It outstretches its hand- handing over my phone.

Its fingers, long and thin.

Its nails, long. I can’t tell the color, maybe grey? Maybe brown? Maybe black?

A dark color.

I subconsciously count the number of fingers.

Three.

My phone is being cupped by its hand.

I don’t move at all.

Neither does it.

I stop breathing.

It inches closer to me, signaling for me to grab my phone. It’s hand waving up and down ever so slightly.

I taste the snot running down my nose.

I quickly reach up to wipe the substance away.

As my left hand makes its way to my nose- it grabs it!

A cold shock travels throughout my body.

I go limp.

I’m drained.

Its hand is warm to touch, but the fur is scruffy and prickly, almost painful.

I don’t attempt to retract my hand.

It squeezes it three times before putting my phone in my hand.

After doing this- it frees my hands gently.

I stare.

I quickly bring my hand back into my domain.

It doesn’t move.

It doesn’t blink.

It doesn’t breathe anymore.

It just sits there.

I try to unlock my phone but the screen doesn’t turn on.

I drop it on the ground and wrap my arms around my dog again. He’s still asleep.

It still hasn’t moved.

Clouds outside the window cover the moon and suddenly the room is pitch dark.

I immediately begin to panic again.

I feel its fingers cradle my face.

I feel its hot breath at the base of my left earlobe.

I tremble and cry, unable to move, I cling to my dog in desperation.

I seek solace in his soft fur.

I feel the breathing travel from my earlobe, to my cheek, to the tip of my nose.

My breathing erratic. I’m whimpering.

I begin to pray, feeling cornered and physically weak.

I feel a warm sensation on my forehead.

It almost feels like I’m being kissed.

I can’t see anything in the dark.

There’s no music playing.

The only thing I hear is myself.

I try to open my eyes as wide as possible, hoping and praying they adjust to the change in lighting.

They don’t.

I still can’t see a thing.

The warm sensation on my forehead is gone.

The temperature in the room has regulated.

The clouds dance away and reveal the moon once again.

The moonlight travels into my room and reveals nothing.

It’s gone.

It’s gone.

Immediately, I sigh of relief.

I’m no longer anxious or fearful.

I’m still positioned on the floor with my arms wrapped around my dog.

He suddenly wakes up, yawns and stretches from under me.

I begin to cry, releasing all of the emotions.

My dog licks my tears as they travel quickly down my face.

I nestle my face into his chest and cry hysterically.

He suddenly stops moving and I begin to feel dread again.

I pull my face up and I meet his brown eyes.

He starts panting as he stares at me.

Confused, I try to scratch behind his ears to comfort him.

He begins to whimper.

I grow worried.

He begins to lick the palm of my left hand.

It stings.

I manage to pick myself up from the cold wooden floor.

Weak and ataxic, I walk over to the light switch.

I flip it upwards.

The lights come on and my eyes immediately burn.

I look down at my left palm.

It’s bloody.

It hurts.

I run to the bathroom to wash my hands with cold water.

Frantically and irrationally, I think to myself “is my tattoo ruined?”

The words that were permanently inked on my palm have been replaced by new ones.

“I just love your music taste.”