You wake, terror beating at you. There’s something insidious in the room with you, creeping closer, intent on doing you harm. You try to run, but your limbs won’t obey your commands. You cannot shout, you cannot scream. The only thing that moves is your eyes, frantically searching the parts of the room you can see while lying prone in bed. Pressure increases on your chest until you can’t breathe, and you realize you are going to die. Panic consumes you. When you can finally scream, you can only release a short cry of warning before your heart gives out. For some, death is a blessing, the end of the nightmare that tormented them. A chance for final rest, an eternal uninterrupted sleep.