It was the most horrible dream I have ever had. I woke up from it profusely sweating, my heart pounding against my chest like a wild bird trying to break out of a trap. An old-fashioned zero-watt bulb was casting an eerie red glow over the otherwise tastefully decorated room.
“I am at my in-laws’ house,” I recalled. Every picture from that dream was still fresh. Lost in a dark wilderness, I am trying to find my way.
I suddenly hear a growling sound and, at a distance, discern an unknown creature ferociously tearing apart its prey. As I come on the scene, the creature leaps into the darkness. In the light of my torch, I see the corpse of a young man—his elegant face intact, but his limbs half mutilated.
Horrified, I shine my torch into the darkness in search of the predator. The beam of my torch carves a garish hole in the dark and suddenly I catch a ghastly figure. It is a woman standing just a few yards away from the corpse, staring back at me—her eyes reflecting the beam of light like a cat's.
Her face, nightgown and hands are covered in blood, but I cannot mistake her. Sitting up in bed, I reached for my bottle of water. I could still hear the ferocious growl, still see the mutilated body, still feel the suffocating darkness pressing against my skin.
For several minutes I remained motionless, listening to the slow ticking of a wall clock somewhere outside the room. The silence seemed unnatural, as though the entire house had stopped breathing. Maria was in a deep sleep on the gigantic bed that had probably been part of the dowry from her first marriage.
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