the last day of 2002

The alarm wakes me at 7am from a nightmare, and the sky looks more like the remains of dusk then the promises of morning.
A feeling of panic formulates somewhere around my sinking heart as I wonder if I slept straight through the day, missing work, and woke up after the sunset. I will be fired.
Leftovers of the dream seem to linger endlessly in the apartment I'm alone in.

the lights go up all around

I pull back the shower curtain with a hollow stomach, expecting to see the little girl ghost in my head a short moment ago, standing in front of me, the one who demanded I play a game with her that would kill me. The monsterous big city sewer alligator in my living room, the one that crawled after me without fail on the dark streets last night. The tiny apartment would open into the house who's doors I locked myself behind in the night. A sanitized room like a prison cafeteria. The dark brown walls of victorian row home.

The random rumbles that echo through the city breathe familiarity into the room, and the sky looks more like day then night now, despite the gray clouds, but I still feel the leftover dream in the small corners of my apartment. Inside the unlit christmas tree. hiding behind the shower curtain I stared at through the mirror over the sink while I brushed my teeth. And the bedroom door is shut, leaving thoughts to play wonderful tricks on me, the scared imagination expecting to find the monsters in my closet waiting, and I will have to play their game.

But I'm not sure if I should feel relieved or anxious when I open the door and find the room empty.