Dream III

I am asleep, rolled up on the couch in the living room. Everyone else is upstairs. The air is cold and hard, and I can feel it spilling down the stairs, pooling around me. The thing is sitting outside the window, waiting. The shades are drawn, and I am wrapped in a thick blanket, but I am icy, shivering. The intensity of the emotion, the alien hate rolling through the thin glass, is crushing my breath from my lungs. The weight on my chest is unbearable, and I am starting to panic. My body won't move. I strain to shift my arms or head, strain to breathe, push with every ounce of energy I possess.