"I've had enough!"
I slammed the bedroom door and stalked downstairs with a blanket and a pillow. Another argument with my wife Sammy was the cherry on top of a day bad enough to make Ned Flanders curse!
My 20-year-old daughter Rose was sat on the sofa, watching some shitty film. She took one look at my facial expression and hurried away.
It was one of the rare times when that stupid girl actually had any sense. I settled down on the sofa and tried to get as comfortable as possible. It was cold and the blanket was too small but I eventually managed to fall into
semi-sleep. My wife was in my dream, acting much like the real version.
She was screaming at me, calling me everything from impotent to incompotent and threatening to leave me forever (Which didn't sound like such a bad idea, to be honest).
Flashes of reality kept on interrupting the dream, the dimly lit living room and the rough surface of the sofa against my skin.
I briefly saw a strange shadow in the corner of the room but I was still half-asleep and so didn't think about it. The next few minutes, I attributed to my delirious state of mind. The shadow came closer everytime I opened my eyes until eventually it was kneeling next to me.
It had no real face but I could feel it looking at me, like a force pushing into the boundaries of my mind. By this time I was awake but I couldn't move from my spot and the shadow was moving his face closer towards to me.
The featureless face seemed to split in two as I screamed and fell off the sofa. The daylight streamed through a gap in the curtains.
The memory of the shadow was already fading and seeming more like a hazy dream.
I rubbed my face and felt the pattern of the sofa imprinted on my left cheek. My 18-year-old son, Mark, bounded down the stairs.
"You alright Dad?"
I sighed and told him I was fine.
Mark looked at the crumpled blanket on the sofa and his face fell. He didn't have to say anything, I knew that he hated it when we fought.
Mark went through into the kitchen to make his breakfast. As he passed by me I felt an annoying itch in my right hand. I scratched it pretty hard, leaving an angry red mark on the palm.
I decided to try and make up with Sammy, even though the peace never lasted, so I headed upstairs and into our bedroom.