[ WP ] Your dreams have been getting longer by the day . One night you come to the realization that your dream state is now your new reality . You find yourself living a life of extreme pleasures and constant nightmares . Your `` dreams '' are now windows back into your old reality .

I think I may be stuck for good in this reality. Actually, I ’ m not sure I even know what *reality* means anymore. What I do know is that the white flaps are coming... and I don ’ t know how much time I have till they do. 
 
 Wait a minute. Let me start from the beginning. 
 
 This whole thing is pretty ridiculous, even for me, so try and keep up. I don ’ t know what my new family ’ s intentions are for me or what they ’ ll do in the next few days. As a matter of fact, I have no idea who they are... or even who I am other than the fragments I was able to piece together about this new me. Don ’ t get me wrong, I ’ m not an idiot. They call me Alexander, and I respond to them as Alexander. I keep cool over my demeanor, while the imposters keep watch over it. Is their spying blatant? No it ’ s not, a far cry from espionage, but it ’ s there regardless. 
 
 Sometimes it ’ s from the corner of their eyes at the dinner table and other times through the bottom of a glass while they take a gulp of water. I ’ ve walked out of a room with my *mother*; a title which I ’ ll stick to for the sake of clarity, standing outside my door just watching me. She ’ ll play it off by saying things like ‘ oh I was just coming to see you ’, or, ‘ oh what would you like for dinner? ’. But like I said, I ’ m no idiot. Once is serendipity. You can call twice a coincidence and thrice a strange occurrence. However, once you lose count of these acts of reconnaissance…well…you be the judge. 
 
 How it happened is complicated. As a disclaimer, you can believe what I ’ m saying or you can shove it where the sun don ’ t shine, it makes no difference to me. You don ’ t see with my eyes or think with my head so your level of vested trust is about as fragile as this reality I ’ m in. For those still interested, read close. My name, my *real* name, is David Benjamin. I studied English literature in New York City where I was born and raised. I ’ ve lived there most of my life other than the two years I spent in Houston with my family. That was short lived since our exodus was swift. Once you ’ ve tasted city life, especially the pace NYC puts on its denizens, the sun feels like it crawls across the sky everywhere else. But that ’ s neither here nor there. What I really need to discuss are the dreams. 
 
 It was small at first. The dreams were normal, nothing odd as far as dreams go. I mean, dreams are pretty goddamn odd by themselves, I ’ m aware, but what I dreamt was par for the course. Finals and getting laid were usually the central themes in mine, but other stuff such as the day ’ s conversations, aspirations, and internal conflicts was also common. Nothing more or less than what an average subconscious conjures during sleep. Except one day I saw something which stuck with me. Now most of the time, remembering dreams after waking up is kind of like trying to catch smoke. The only thing you ’ re left with is the scent in your palms without a trace of a smoke wisp. A dream works the same way, dissipating seconds after re-entering consciousness. Some dreams, though, stick around like the stench after an Indian-food shit. And believe me, I speak by experience. 
 
 This dream was like one of those stinkers. It was inconspicuous at first, something you don ’ t even notice happening until you ’ re awake. I dreamt I was part of Anonymous, you know, the 4chan hackers. It was during that whole Anonymous hacking craze thing. Anyway, I ’ m wrecking some guy ’ s day in the dream and all is fine and dandy. My room was exactly like the real one except for one detail, my computer case was different. I didn ’ t pay the anomaly any mind t until I awoke and walked over to turn my actual PC on. It took me a second to realize that it was no longer the jet black, white trimmed, see through paneled beauty that I remembered. Just like in my dream, it was red with black trim. The see through panel was gone. I could have sworn I got that case in black, *sworn*. I don ’ t even like the color red. There isn ’ t a red shirt in my damn wardrobe, why the hell would I get the case of a color I despised? And yet, there it was on the floor, red as a baboon ’ s anus. 
 
 Now, this is the kind of thing that will make you question your sanity, amigo. I went back to check my Newegg purchase history and even there, the son of a bitch was red. I was straight insane in the membrane for a good three days before I wrote it off as…I don ’ t know what. I just wrote it off. It took a month or two before I pushed it off to my mind ’ s back burner, but there was no way to forget about it altogether. A few months later, I would receive another reminder, and then another, and then again after that. I had no idea at the time that this was just the beginning. 
 
 **** 
 
 More to come
