I awoke at 3:12 a.m., too terrified to let my eyes close again. The blackness of sleep used to be a comfort to me, but now the anxiety of letting it take me into an unknown void was unbearable. I don't remember my dreams, but the subconscious knowledge of what happened in them is enough to shake me until I want to melt. It's now 3:15 and my ears are ringing, this is normal to the routine of these types of nights. Sometimes my room has a hint of sulfur smell to the air after this occurrence; a foreign, uncomfortable smell that seems to seep through my skin. Luckily, tonight this aspect of the routine is absent. I know what will happen if I try to shut my eyes again: they will fly right back open. Plus, I'm too exhausted to try to sleep more. I evidently toss and turn all night from the odd positions I wake up in. I decide to go downstairs to get a glass of water and try to ease my nerves. I live alone, so the creaky moans of the floorboards confuse me when I'm not moving about. I try not to think about it too much. When I overthink these things I get more frightened so I've learned not to fall into the fear of my mind. It is all in my mind, right? The one story house is just big enough for myself. Not any neighbors for company, or even friends for that matter, so I'm usually alone. I never feel alone though. The constant feeling of being watched is what the doctors have described to me as a normal sickness of being alone. I must be sick because I'm sure only mental patients have similar ideas in their heads as in mine. The voice in my head changes from my own to a deep basso profondo. I hate this voice but have grown used to it. Oddly enough, I miss it after only days of its absence. The thoughts the strange voice tells me linger for hours until I want to physically pick through my head and uncover what it is trying to tell me. I can't speak these to other people without making myself sound crazy, and that simple fact makes me crazy. I couldn't express them in words, anyway. I don't understand the low vibrations it sends through the back of head but they are the same ones that shout at me when I wake in the middle of the night. I continue through my house into the kitchen, grab my glass, and fill it from the tap. I take my first sip and I'm thankful for the first real sign of reality since I've woken up. It's November and the fog on the ground feels cliché to the frightening feelings I'm going through. But, wow, it sure is dense on this early morning. There's a white car passing by with its high beams on and I still couldn't see it until it was no more than 10 feet by my window. I put my cup in the sink as a hear a crash from outside. It must be the car that drove by, and since I'm fully awake I feel compelled to go check it out. The night air is chilly as I leave my house barefooted and check my surroundings. There is no car to be seen, only a short looking figure directly across the street from my door. As I walk slowly to the figure, I forget about the car. I forget it's cold outside, that I have to work in the morning, what my water tasted like. I seem to forget everything. What I do remember is the voice in my head telling me to come closer. This is not my voice, it's the other one. I don't want to keep walking anymore but I no longer have control. I'm not trying to move, I feel like I'm being carried but I glance to look at my feet and they are still pacing one after the other rhythmically. I can only freak out internally since my physical body is of no use to me, and I refuse to do that because I somehow know that will only make things worse. I have lost all sensations of feeling in my body as I'm 5 feet away from the figure. I take one step closer and the figure becomes clear in the fog. It's not one being, but three. All are the same short height, dressed in blue coveralls. I feel welcomed by them but now I smell the tinge of sulfur that never fails to churn my stomach inside out. I've stopped moving my feet. I can't hear anything through the ringing that had not stopped in my ears. "What are you?" I hear myself say.
"I am God," the low voice in my head responds to me but it seems to be coming from all three of the figures. Bright lights appear above me as my vision goes black. I hear one last low vibrational sentence from the back of my head "And I am you,".

I wake up at 3:12 a.m., in a strange position on my bed, unable to remember any fragment of a dream I could've had.