Kam’s eyes will not open.

Crunch. Lips smack greedily. It is the sound of something wrong, wrong, wrong.

The last sound Kam remembers is  the click of his light switch before his head hit the soft pillow of his bed as the melatonin kicked in. Now it feels like he is floating in open space. Like he is nowhere.

Munch. The bone snaps like twigs. The sound of it grinding on teeth tougher than tungsten.

“So good.” Its voice sounds cheery, like nothing could  taste so good. A gurgling sound follows. “Oops. Spilled.”

Kam’s eye itches. He rubs it  involuntarily, and catches a momentary glimpse of the scene in front of him. The image brands itself in his head. It’s too late. All he sees are its bulbous appendages, but his imagination fills in the rest. It is like a massive spider. Hairs flick every which way. Its fangs pulse, sucking in precious life blood. The sound of its legs repositioning around the prey sounds like a giant skittering on toenails. 

Crunch

Those fangs crush through bone and into the marrow. Kam imagines its skin bursting open like a juicy, saucy hot wing.

He gags. It’s audible. 

“Who’s there?”

Kam’s heart sinks, as if wanting to hide by itself. But just like him, his heart is stuck, caged between his ribs while Kam is caged behind his fear. It heard him. It knows. He’s next. 

“You’re not supposed to be here” The skittering comes closer. Kam imagines it as a creature with a bulging carapace dripping with whatever stuff its prey was made of. “Kam, is that really you?”

Its voice is no longer a deep, dark, dreadful sound  corroding Kam's consciousness. It is friendly. It is warm. It is familiar. 

Kam opens his eyes. 

He recognizes him instantly. Asa: Kam’s best friend. His olive skin barely shows in the neutral light of this empty landscape. Six freckles dotted his face between his lips and eyebrows perfectly symmetrical. A white streak jumps from the frizzy hair on his head and onto his brow and eyelashes. His dark eyes are wet, as if he is about to cry, but his toothless grin gives away that any sad thoughts are far from his mind. 

“It’s time to wake-up now, Kam,” Asa says.

-

Kam’s eyes shoot open. His bed is soaked. The sun shows through his window shades. His alarm is ringing. There is pounding at his door.

“I’m up, I’m up” Kam shouts.

“Dude, you were fucking screaming, and your alarm’s going off” his roommate, Jacob, said from outside.

“Sorry. Must’ve been the melatonin.” 

“Well, shit, I’m taking that far away from you. I’m making french toast.” Jacob’s heavy steps tell Kam he was gone to the kitchen.

Kam’s phone vibrates, but Kam reaches for his dream journal first as adrenaline fills his veins. The journal is covered in dust. Its pages are empty. The rest was filled with fantastic journeys, ballads, and, as his parents called it, “The delusions of a grandiose fool.” Of all the journals and notebooks Kam had, it is only the dream journal that was empty. Kam has never remembered a single dream, but today is different.

Today, he remembers.

The phone buzzes again.

Kam writes out every detail of his dream. He embellishes them, making them grotesque and enough to fuel his unremembered nightmares for weeks to come. Then he describes Asa. A flush comes over his face. He’s imagined him close before, but he was just inches away. He could've kissed him. 

It’s not easy keeping a crush on your best friend a secret, but somehow, Kam had to keep his heart still whenever their hands brushed, or when Asa wrapped his toned arms around his shoulders. When Asa insisted they live apart for community college, Kam was secretly relieved. His feelings couldn’t get in the way of their friendship. It would be impossible if they lived together.

But even Kam’s feelings can't hide the last detail he needed to write. In his dream, purple, glowing blood dripped down Asa’s cheek and down his neck, soaking  his shirt as if he just finished eating something. 

The phone rings, blasting out Set It Off’s I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead. It’s Asa and Kam’s mutual ringtone. Kam picks it up.

Before he says anything, Asa asks a single question. “Sleep well, Kam?”