When I was a boy, I used to have a recurring nightmare where I was in a dark
room lit only by a sliver of light that leaked in from beneath the door.
It
would take me a few moments for my eyes to adjust, at which point I would go
from sensing a presence to seeing the silhouette of a shadowy being against the
far wall. “Who are you?!”
I’d cry out. “What do you want?!” But it felt like my
words were entering a vacuum, as if the creature was drawing the air out of my
lungs. Standing idly, the menacing figure eerily emanated a subtle swirl of
noise, as if it was sucking up all the hope and happiness from around it. It was
utter sadness, I say!
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