Ray Jackson's Invasion  I'm with my ex-girlfriend Annie Thomas in a room. We're having a sexual encounter. I rip her clothes off and we have sex. Her knees are bent, and her legs are up against her chest. At one point she gives me fellatio. Another time I say to her, "Suck my dick, so I can get hard and we can fuck." She does this. The sex is good: it feels great. At one point I realize that this isn't real: that I'm imagining it. But I keep imagining it because it's great. Annie has a few pimples on her back, and a scratch with a chunk of skin missing, which doesn't seem like her. She has on white boxer-brief underwear. It's later in the night, then. I awaken and Annie isn't there. Ray Jackson, an acquaintance, is sitting on the floor. I'm shocked and extremely surprised to see someone there! I am hostile at first, saying to him, "What the fuck are you doing here?" Then I calm down. I think this must be a dream. I grab Ray's shoe, with his foot in it. It is solid, and I conclude that this isn't a dream. I wonder, and ask where he came from. I am baffled that he is in my room. He seems surprised and confused that he's there, as if he doesn't know how he got there. He tells me he came to see my sister Heather the other day. I believe him. This is his reason for being here. I had grabbed a knife, believing that he was an intruder: someone in the form of him, but not actually him. I put the knife, which is my army knife, down. The attic door, which is in my bedroom at home, is open. There is a picture on the wall that is tilted or fallen of an angel or spirit woman, like the picture that my dad gave Heather a while back. I look down at my clock on the floor, spilling a cup of water near my bed as the blankets fall on the floor. It's about 6:30am. The blankets on my bed are those from my flat on Ocean Avenue. I'm wearing underwear, and I cover up with a sheet, sitting or standing to deal with Ray. I may grab the knife again.