Last night

Yellow Gal had a series of odd dreams, two of which she remembers. The one she believes to be the earlier one was sort of a nightmare, one from which she awoke terrified and in a sweat (she thought that only happened in movies).

She was in her studio apartment, where she lives now, and looked out her peephole. Someone or something very evil was outside her door in the hallway, facing sideways. The evil thing looked like a person, but Yellow Gal could discern no flesh, no skin. There was just a hat and papers and clothing. Yellow Gal was curious about the evil thing and so kept staring, knowing full well that the evil entity would eventually be able to sense her presence. And it did. The evil entity then turned toward Yellow Gal's peephole. She could feel the evil emanating from the entity--an indescribable feeling of horror.

Yellow Gal then started murmuring prayers to God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit (she hadn't been to church since 1997). For a while, the power of good was able to ward off the evil of the entity. But good faded and the entity did not retreat. The entity began to read her mind, know her fears, and use them to torture her.

Yellow Gal then ran into her bathroom, and closed the door, and she feared the entity would enter her apartment and stand right outside her bathroom door. For some odd reason, there was a hose and a faucet in the middle of her bathroom. It turned on, and she got soaked. When she called upon the Trinity, she was able to turn it off. She clamped onto the faucet to keep it off, and could feel the power of the evil entity literally turning the faucet wheel on.

Yellow Gal remembers seeing a piece of paper by the sink, and scrawled on it were questions that the entity was asking her. "Do you ever fear ___?" "At night, does it frighten you when ___?" They were specific questions, but Yellow Gal can't remember.

And then Yellow Gal woke up.

The second dream Yellow Gal had was about her father. He was alive, and that whole thing about his death had been a ghastly mistake. They misdiagnosed his death. She saw him walking with her family. She saw him alive. He was alive after all.

But then in her dream, Yellow Gal started thinking. She remembered his funeral, the casket--how could they fake that? How could that be a medical misdiagnosis? She remembered touching his cold hand at his wake, and that certainly couldn't be faked. As soon as the semblance of logic and reality began to unravel the dream, she slipped into another dream.