Sleep - those little slices of death, how I loathe them. ~Edgar Allen Poe

Mr. Sandman and I have never had a good relationship. Sleep and I have never been very good friends. For as long as I can remember a good nights sleep is a rare occurrence. I am a restless sleeper. I have very vivid dreams. Nightmares are frequent and insomnia plagues me more often then should be allowed. I have a reoccurring nightmare of a man lurking in the shadows, I never see his face and there is never any contact but the ominous feeling of doom is always prevalent. That feeling of uneasiness and lingering memory sometimes follows me throughout the day. Last night I had that nightmare, this morning I feel tired and aloof. I can relate this nightmare to something that happened when I was 7.

We lived in Brooklyn on Vernon Street, in a tenement building that was 6 stories high and had 4 apartments on each floor. There were no elevators, you walked up the stairs. Behind the first landing of the stairs was a dark alcove. It was sort of a dark corner behind the stairs, against a back wall, there were no apartments near that corner. A long hallway lead from the entrance to our building to the back where the stairs were located. We lived on the fourth floor.

I remember it was warm and sunny, I had been outside playing. At some point I decided to go home and have water. I walked inside and headed to the stairs. I heard a small noise, it sounded like an animal, perhaps a puppy. I slowly peeked around the banister to the dark corner behind the stairs and in a flash, but what now in my minds eye appears to have happened in slow motion, a man grabbed me. I remember my feet in the air, his breath on my neck his hand over my mouth and still to this day I swear I can sometimes remember the sound of his whisper. "don't scream, I'll kill you". As I type this, I feel anxious, strange how a memory of so long ago can still cause an obvious physical reaction.

As I was being carried down the long hallway leading to the front door of the building, the man who lived in the apartment closest to the front door was leaving for work. I was friends with his daughter. When he saw me being carried off by someone not my father he said something, I don't recall what. He ran towards the man who attempted to push past him, with me still in his arms. In the scuffle/chaos that ensued, I was dropped on the floor and the man fled out the front door. I got up and ran as fast as I could to our apartment, followed the whole time by my neighbor. I am sure I made it to our fourth floor apartment in record time.

Two days later, the news carried reports of a 6 year abducted and killed. She lived in the building next door to mine. We use to play together. We were on rival double dutch teams. I don't recall how I reacted to the news but I remember my parents crying. I also remember that I never again walked in and out of that building alone. Shortly after, perhaps months later we moved to Euclid Avenue.

There is no doubt my nightmare of the man in the shadows is somehow related to that one day back on Vernon Street. Until last night I had not had this nightmare in a very long time, maybe even a couple years. I'm not sure what precipitated it's return. Perhaps just my recent bout with insomnia, perhaps stress, perhaps I spent way to much time before bed pondering the ways of the planet, or maybe it was just the bowl of ramen noodles I had before bed.