• I’m walking down the street and someone’s doing the ragtime.

    This is odd, I consider. Where does it come from?...
    I suddenly realise that the tapping is coming from right over my shoulder. I take a peek; no one’s there.
    Still, the ragtime continues. And as the rhythm turns frantic, I start walking faster, now scared. Pacing furiously, I throw quick glances over my shoulder; not noticing when a sudden speeding car crosses the road right by my feet. I come to a halt, jerking back a bit. Erratic breathing ringing in my ears, I notice the ragtime has come to a halt as well, finishing in a loud dry ‘Tap!’.

    Everything’s silent now, and I’m still standing on the edge of the sidewalk, waiting, listening for the ragtime to start again. I look around me and notice the street is completely deserted. Hesitantly, I take a step across the road and close the short distance to the building’s front door.

    On my doorstep I key myself in and immediately head towards the shower. I need to relax. Shrugging off my shirt, I lift my hand to my heart and gasp at the frenzied thuds under my palm. ‘It’s beating too fast!,’ I whisper to myself, ‘It’s almost doing the ragt----‘. I choke on the word.

    In a snap I shake the hand off my chest, yank the rest of my clothes away and step into the shower. I let the hot water untie the tension on every muscle of my body before I turn it off.
    The steam floats around me as I dry my skin meticulously. Extremely relaxed and inhaling the hot air, I feel drowsy. As I lurch towards the bed a mellow tune starts to play in my head. That’s nice, I think while merging with the many folds of fabric and burrowing my head on the soft pillow. I yawn and allow the mellow dream to come and sweep me off my consciousness.

    Only to realise the mellow tune I hear is not an upcoming dream, but an event taking place in my bedroom right now. I flash my eyes open and hit the lights. Where now?, I think, searching the room for the source. The tune is growing softer, but more elaborate; I distinctly hear a piano, but the notes seem to dim in the ill-lit room. I c**k my head and listen quietly, holding my breath.
    I follow the tune’s trail and realise it comes from near my pillow. Hesitantly, I bring my ear to it and feel the warmth on the fabric brush against my panic-cold skin. The melody is growing softer and softer and I now place my head directly on the pillow in an effort to listen closely. It’s so beautiful, I notice in spite of the strangeness and my eyes close themselves as my head rests its whole weight on the soft pillow.
    I drift in moonlight bathed waters and supple waves rock me into sleep.