I was an average child living an average life until sometime during my eighth year. After that point, I was an average child living two lives. The second life was beyond my comprehension or ability to control. Waking up in that life was a terrifying attraction.
If you've read my preface above, you know a little of my past, but if you've bypassed my preface, go back and read it now or you'll fall behind. Meanwhile, I'll tell of my typical night's adventure as a child. You can read it when you get back.
-age eight- It was predawn when I awoke to find myself on the floor of my pitch-darkened room. I was concerned that I couldn't recall the apparent fall from my bed and began to flail at the dark for signs of the familiar. The short, unsuccessful search elevated my childish concern to panic. In desperation, I screamed for my mother. Immediately, I was shot back into my bed like a rocket. I was still screaming, but there wasn't any voice. My fear was locked behind frozen lips. My body beneath the covers was paralyzed. An electric roar rumbled though my head and torso. It shook me with a violent grip. And then it subsided. The roar and my catatonic state simply eased off. Movement returned to my body. I was back.