And that’s what I did. I dreamed about a ménage à trois. Or I guess that’s what happened. I didn’t actually have sex in the dream, I just assumed that I had. All I remember is leaving one girl in the bedroom, while the other girl took a shower in the bathroom.

I climbed up out of bed to go join the second girl in the bathroom. The door was cracked open, so I took the liberty of stepping inside and right onto a cold, wet floor.

“Shit!” I reacted to the cold floor in my bare feet. I looked down at the water and found that fresh blood was dripping into it. I followed the dripping blood to the feet and bloody legs of the second woman, who was standing in the middle of the bathroom. Blood was trickling down between her legs in front of me. But I still hadn’t looked into her face.

She said, “You see what you made me do? Do you see?”

I finally looked into the woman’s face and it was Andrea. She held her bloody palms out toward me. She wore a bloodied, long white T-shirt, with no underwear. Her loose brown hair was wet and clinging to her head like in some kind of horror movie.

I said, “I didn’t do that to you. I didn’t.”

I sounded like a punk. But you can’t control what you say and do in your dreams. It was like I was watching myself in a movie.

She screamed, “Yes, you did! You made me go to him! This is all your fault. And look what he did to me.”

It was all crazy.

I shook my head in denial. “I didn’t make you go to him.”

“You told me to. You said it would be better for me.”

I was confused. Did I say that to her? I had said something of that nature but I couldn’t remember.

“Well, I didn’t mean it,” I responded in the dream.

Aw, man, I was so weak. Dreams are pitiful like that. You have no control over how they play out in your conscience.

She said, “You did mean it. Now look at me. Look at me!”

Andrea continued to scream at me, while drenched in blood.

MAN, I woke the hell up in the middle of the night and was stunned.

“Fuck!” I cursed. I was nervous and shaking as chills overtook my body.

I looked over at Danni, who was still sound asleep. Then I looked over at the clock on my nightstand. It read 4:24 in green neon. I had to get up and get ready for my flight to Miami by seven. The flight was scheduled for 9:45 AM. I wasn’t extra tired or anything. I usually only got four to six hours of sleep anyway. But my mind was definitely tripping on me that morning.

“Shit,” I cursed again. I thought about Corey. Had someone sent him to put that crazy seed in my head about Andrea? Why was he so interested in meeting up with me again anyway? I had to wonder. I even felt like calling the guy and waking his ass up. But that would have been extreme. How would he have taken that? He would have thought I was a lunatic. If his actual intent was to get me to feel guilty about my aborted relationship with Andrea, then my phone call in the middle of the night would have been a confirmation.