I woke up yelling this morning. That's not a figure of speech.

Lifelong nightmares in dreams of red and yellow. They are dying, turning into browns and blues and violets with only the faintest traces of reds in tattoos and yellows in the tones of the paint.

An elderly man illustrated through computer graphics leads a group of children through a dark blue labyrinth of stone. A certain form of unstable rock has been activated and will explode. They must reach safety. White tigers and personal resolve help the man find his way to a haven, the place where the rocks were first found which is now blocked against them. I could feel the gritty breeze on my face as the pulsating blue stone run with red cracks stirred the air around it.

Before the rocks could explode, I woke up in the kiss of a spider woman. A jail cell filled with Raul Julia, William Hurt, myself, and a man who I now recognize as a very young David Hewlett. There's torture under dark brown poles that force the body down into cement as you try to escape. The walls are the same blue as the cave's stone, but there are decorations in the blond of Hewlett's hair, the pale of Hurt's skin, the purple of Julia's bruises.

There are jokes and eroticism and companionship. The fear is more distant yet carries more promise as the pain has already been felt.

As the first touch of red appears in the pink of Hurt's nipples, I find myself in a new apartment. It's poorly locked. People press themselves in, stealing, bothering, messing up everything they can find. Someone shits in the hallway. Another knocks on doors and punches those who answer without reason. Still another picks locks and escapes with whole pantries of food. While others simply will not leave.

An attractive man who appears more Rodney than Leon saves the hallway with bleach, while new friends in brightly colored clothing in neon greens and magentas help lock broken doors. In the end, I am sitting on a row of couches with them faced by our mirror across the room.

Only, they are not a reflection. They are ugly, obese, poorly dressed, tattooed in black lines that glow red. They will not leave no matter how many times I loudly proclaim that everyone needs to do so. They stare at me with dull, uncaring eyes.

Until I yell, "GET OUT!" and the sound wakes me up.