When I woke up, the room was dark and blurry. Long jet black hair was running down my face. This can’t be mine, mine is blonde. I could run my fingers through it, from my eyes to my thumping chest. I gripped both hands on it and pulled with all my strength. My screams should have alerted the neighbors. Nobody came. Throughout the day the room grew darker and I thought I could hear someone breathing in the room. The tears were absorbed by the oily dark strands of hair. I’m still unsure if this is a nightmare or a curse.