This morning was different. Frank couldn’t shake the sleep from his head. For the past week, fitful dreams had plagued him, sometimes even what he thought were nightmares. Sometimes, he couldn’t remember anything about them. Other times, small details would emerge as the day progressed. Nothing that would reveal what the dream had been about—just a fragment in the fog, a quick peek through a door being slammed shut. The only thing Frank knew for sure was that he was in the dream with an ominous shadow. A thick, dark fog surrounded him. Frank could see himself because he glowed bright like a beacon. The shadow appeared darker and denser than the fog, always near him, always attempting to move closer.