Charlie tucked me in at the usual bedtime that night.

“Will you teach me how to play a song tomorrow?” I asked, just before Charlie flicked off the lights.

“We’ll have to learn a piece together”, Charlie said sincerely. “I never made it much further than playing the right hand part of ‘Chop Sticks’.”

“You really don’t know how to play? I thought you knew everything!”

“Everyone has their limits, but that doesn’t mean we can’t constantly push ourselves to do more, George. Maybe we can look into piano lessons if you decide it’s something you wish to go after. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Charlie flicked off the lights. “Rest well and dream beautifully, George.” The door shut and I drifted quickly to sleep.

I’ve had this dream before. It was more vivid this time than the last. I’m struggling on my back on the floor. It’s dark. The kind of dark where you can barely see your hand in front of your own face even after being in the room for more than five minutes. A piano bench is pinning me from above. I try with all my strength to push it off but I can’t. A red light flicks on. I looked to my left to see the piano with keys curling up like a cat sharpening it’s claws on the carpet. I close my eyes tightly and open them again.  The bench begins to drag me towards the piano keys that are now grinning back at me like sharp teeth in a awaiting hungry mouth. The hood flings open and slams shut with a loud rhythmic thuds. I kick my legs and try to scream, but all that comes from my mouth is the sound of fingernails scraping across piano strings. Traditionally this is the moment of the dream where I’m suppose to wake up to a silent house. It’s always a relief because I wake up right before the demonic piano takes its first bite from toes. It never gets easier. This time when I was thrown awake the house wasn’t silent….