Saturday, Jul. 24, 2004 - 12:00

I found myself in the hallway of my apartment building. It’s a remarkably long corridor, stretching back from the front foyer of the building for many, many meters; seemingly receding far off into the distance, and lined with identical looking doorways evenly spaced apart along the way.

For whatever reason, I was right down the far end of the corridor, facing the front of the building, looking towards the foyer. I moved along the hallway, looking at the closed doors as I passed, searching for the number to my own apartment… When I reached the last sets of doors – just before one crosses the threshold into the wide foyer – I expected to find my door with its number on it. But there was no door – just a blank, featureless wall.

I stepped into the foyer, which has a polished granite floor. The front doors of the building are all glass and it’s a security entrance. From that position, one can look out across the busy street over which the building sits. There is a set of several polished granite steps that lead up to the front doors from the outside of the building, thus elevating the foyer a few feet above street level.

I noticed that the road was covered in blood. It moved like a sluggish river. The level began to rise, spilling over the gutters and encroaching upon the pavement. I stood by the door, still inside the building, transfixed by this grisly sight.

And still the level of the blood river rose so that it was now lapping at the bottom-most step in front of the building. And now I noticed that there were objects being carried within the fast moving torrents of blood; flotsam and jetsam, comprised of bodies, some partially dismembered, others gruesomely mauled… and still the levels of the blood river rose.

The river had risen to such an extent that small amounts of blood were oozing beneath the gaps of the front door. I stepped back a few paces, repulsed. Within seconds, however, the growing ocean of blood rose that churned outside rose to knee level, then thigh, waist… until at last nothing else could be seen beyond the glass but a sickening panorama of blood, occasionally broken up by a glimpse of a severed hand, arm of head being whisked away in the strong moving current.

From the relatively safe vantagepoint of the foyer, I noticed a shadow moving in the river of blood. It seemed to stride purposefully towards the front doors of my apartment building, unaffected and holding its ground against the pull of the river’s current.

It was a human figure and its form became clearer as it mounted the stairs and came to stand directly in front of me, separated only by the thick glass door.

Simon stood there, eyes wide and wild and black with hate… his hair swept and danced with the eddies of the river, as did the slack of his shirt. But otherwise, he was rooted to the spot, strong in the face of the unnatural river in which he was immersed.

He rose both his arms above his head with hands balled into tight fists, and then brought them smashing against the glass of the front door. The action and sound startled me, as did the sneer on his face. He repeated the violent assault again and again, and twin cracks, like spiders webs, appeared in the glass, allowing minute rivulets of blood to ooze through, dripping down the inside of the glass door, pooling on the floor.

I stepped backwards, back to the corridor behind me, realising what his intent was, and knowing that the doors would not hold for long against his attack. All the while Simon relentlessly smashed his fists upon the glass, his lips curled back over his teeth like some rabid dog, his eyes forever unblinking, fixed on me with merciless loathing…

And then I woke up.

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