monogodo

When I first went off to college, I chose a school that was about 1200 miles away from home, in Sarasota, Florida. I didn't know anyone at the school to room with, so I let the housing department match me up. They chose Mark, a guy from Miami.

Mark was ok. He was rather quiet, as was I. Neither of us really had much in the way of stuff to decorate the room. I had a stereo, and that was about it.

I didn't know it at the time, but Mark had started to get into drugs. I don't know what he was using, I just know that he was.

One night, I came home from hanging out at a friend's room around 11:30pm. When I opened the door and turned on the hall light, I saw a Palmetto Bug on the floor. (In case you don't know, everywhere else in the world a Palmetto Bug is known as a cockroach. Except Palmetto Bugs fly. At your face.) I decided to stomp on the bug.

As I was trying to kill it, Mark came running around the corner from his bed, with a sheet over him (like he was trying to be a ghost), and holding his pillow in front of him. I assumed he was heading for the bathroom, since he'd gotten sick from drinking the night before, so I stepped aside to let him pass. He veered toward me, and lightly pressed the pillow in his hands against my chest, while running in place.

I looked at him incredulously, and said, "Mark! What are you doing?"

He stopped running, kinda shook his head as if he were waking up, replied, "I thought you were an intruder," and went back to bed.

A couple of weeks later, I awoke from a dream, only to hear him talking in his sleep. It was rather disturbing. From what I can remember of it, he was saying something to the effect of, "No, Dad, stop. I don't like it, stop," over and over.

I ended up changing rooms (and roommates) the next semester.