The Tyrannosaur in Your Bedroom

Your eyes snap open but you’re still a bit woozy from sleep, so at first you don’t realize it was a Tyrannosaur that woke you up. You stumble into the bathroom to throw up because all the shaking has upset your stomach, but by the time your throat and sinuses are burning, you’re conscious enough to realize that there is, in fact, a Tyrannosaur stomping around your bedroom.

You consider lying down on the floor in the bathroom, just in case all the shaking makes you nauseous again, but the bathroom is small and would be hard to escape if the Tyrannosaur pushed it’s way in, so you leave the bathroom on shaky legs. You do your best not to alert or alarm the thing as you sneak back to the questionable safety of your bed. Once you’re beneath the blankets again, reality sets in. There is a fucking Tyrannosaur. In your bedroom. And it’s going to eat you.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Every stomp of it’s huge feet racks your entire body. You try to control your breathing—in slowly, hold, and out slowly—because, to be honest, this isn’t the first time the Tyrannosaur has found it’s way into your bedroom, and from experience you know it can smell your fear, which only makes the beast excited. Briefly, you consider waking up your spouse, who is sleeping through the whole ordeal as if there isn’t a Tyrannosaur. In your fucking bedroom.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Maybe they’ll tell you you’re overreacting, and that Tyrannosaurs went extinct a long time ago, and it’s fine to go back to sleep. But you already know all that, and knowing it doesn’t stop the fact that the monster is going to eat you as soon as it realizes you’re in the room.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

You curl in a ball beneath your blanket as your entire body shakes in time to the enormous footfalls, palms sweating, stomach roiling, breath hissing, just praying the damn think finds it’s way out of your room. Like when your roll your car window down and hope the bee just flies out.

But this isn’t a bee. It’s a fucking Tyrannosaur. And it’s definitely going to kill you.

Except there is no Tyrannosaur. It’s a surprise panic attack. But it’s still probably going to kill you.

Thump—thump. Thump—thump. Thump—thump.