This title comes directly from a text that was sent to my phone by an out-of-state number I did not recognize, by an anonymous person. It caused me to think I was late to work, and I ended up stumbling down the street half-dressed wondering why I was there and what time it was. Whoever you are, it might not be the best title for a novelette, but it really inspired me in a disconcerting way. This is a psychological horror story that I am only writing when I wake up disoriented, have been up for days, am drunk, angry, or have a concussion—method writing I guess. Yes, and on one of these disoriented occasions—having something to do with sleeping an and a half a day—I ran into what was either a huge fox, or a mangy coyote [perhaps a crack cocaine-addicted coyote] under a light pole on a summer night, on a side street on my way to the bus stop. The night was especially dark as it was overcast and no moonlight was admitted to help me decipher the four-legged mystery before me.
Wake from Your Dream Place…
…to a beautiful storm outside your window.
The text popped up on his cell phone, the buzz of the manner mode setting jarring him awake. He had fallen asleep at the computer again, his nose pressed against the dot key, now having scrolled through fifty pages of………………………..
The buzz of the vibrating cell woke him again. It was the same number, a number he did not recall, from out of state. This piece was not getting finished tonight. Now that he finally realized that he was without another word, he shut down his PC, turned on his lamp, and went to bed. It had been a while since he had been able to fall asleep with the lights out.
What if the asteroid hits tonight and the world is plunged into darkness? How will I sleep then?
Oh forget it. The calculations are all wrong.
You just have to prove it.
You did not even pass calculus. How—
You know how, smartass. Fred will handle it. We will take the data to Fred.
The curtain brushed his forehead and the air-mattress on the floor sucked him in. He had no more energy, not another moment of semi-consciousness to spare arguing with himself. Night did not take him. For Luther, night and sleep were mutually exclusive phenomena. Sleep could only be achieved with the proper alignment of lamp light, exhaustion and caffeine tolerance. Only exhaustion truly claimed the mind of Luther Watts for the Place of Dreams.
Even then, he heard himself snore once before dozing off. It was enough to awaken his consideration of the strange text on his phone. How could they know he was asleep at his keyboard? He did not even have the facility of mind to begin pondering the question; simply fell into sleep in a nebulous state of weary curiosity.
