Gemotions

He woke with a start, the sheets tangled around his legs. The lingering image of the drawing, the oddly shaped figure with a single, enormous eye, burned behind his eyelids. “Squiggle,” he had called it. He sat up, heart pounding.

He stumbled out of bed and into the living room, where the drawing, now faded and dog-eared, lay on the coffee table. He felt a profound sense of wrongness. The mundane objects of his life - the sofa, the television, the framed photographs - seemed alien, unfamiliar.

He felt an urge to run, a desperate need to escape this suddenly unfamiliar reality. He grabbed his coat and keys, the world tilting and swirling around him.