A light cool breeze floats through the open window. The curtain billows as I shift restlessly in my nest of blankets on the floor. The window appears so far away, so out of reach. Almost like a gateway to another world, or the sleep that still evades me.
        Moonlight illuminates the floor to my right, all the way to the bed, and then darkness returns to the floor. Closing my eyes, the darkness is complete. Suddenly I’m five again, terrified of the darkness lurking around me, and the monsters that are lurking just out of sight. My mind tries to reason with the child inside, “There’s no such thing as monsters, and there’s nothing in the dark to be afraid of.” But still I can’t open my eyes, or move a muscle. I’m frozen in fear. “If I can’t see them, they can’t see me. If I don’t move they won’t know I’m here.” The child inside insists.
         Laying there, remembering countless nights I spent as a kid laying on my bed as close to the wall as I could get, and barely moving, hardly breathing in fear of the darkness around me. It’d been years since I’d been afraid of the dark. But somehow, laying on the floor of my friend from college’s room, with the breeze floating through the window, the unfamiliar place seems to have triggered my inner child’s fear, and I’m helpless to do anything but lay completely still with my eyes shut tight.
         Finally dawn lets its presence be known by illuminating the room, so that even through my closed eyes I know its there. And again I have control of my body; I can open my eyes, and move. Sighing I roll onto my side, and sleep takes over.