I don’t even remember opening my eyes. It takes a few seconds to realize that the room isn’t moving anymore. It wasn’t jarring like an earthquake, but steadily rolling and dipping, like a fishing boat cutting through choppy seas, which in some circles is much worse. I was punching at that little goblin sitting on my chest, wailing and swinging my arms like wood clubs, and now he’s gone, that devious little bastard.
My neck is moist with sweat and my heart is banging against my ribcage, ready to give out at any moment. “I’m gonna die,” I mouth to myself. But then the silence settles in around me and I turn to see my wife calm, still asleep, completely oblivious to the horrors she has just slept through.
Soon I am able to breathe a little easier, I slowly loosen my grip. Each hand full of balled-up comforter. I toss my head back into the pillow and let my whole body go limp. Tomorrow I’ll get that goblin, I think to myself, gonna smear vasoline all over my chest. He’ll slide right off and I’ll beat him into submission.