It was not the dream I had been expecting to have; it was more than that, a sort of hallucination of insects, the creatures I would have paid a million dollar for an exterminator to kill, were climbing along my shirt, racing to my face. I reached down to shake off the blanket, but I could not manage to lift my hand an inch off of the sheet, it was like each limb of my body got amputated as an insect climbed on it. I froze, trying to endure it. I slammed my palm down onto the sheet, clenching it as tight as I could that my nails had almost ripped through. I forced myself to close my eyes, begging for something to distract my attention, but there was nothing around, nothing but huge cockroaches. They crawled their way up my neck, tickling me as their tiny legs stepped on my skin, threatening me as their antennas were straightened and lanced towards me like a sword. For a moment I imagined myself fighting for my life, turning my palms to face each other and sliding them along the both sides of the sword in an attempt to push it away. But it was not a war, but a penetrating trauma. I stretched out my arm, fumbling for the flashlight. I traced my palm across the desk, dragging aside all the objects my palm was in range of. The flashlight was on the edge of my desk, being about to swing and fall off it. I grabbed it in my slender-pale-skinned hand and turned the switch on. The light flickered on and brightened up the entire room. I sat up; surprised as I noticed the cockroaches were no longer on me. "I would've done it before if I'd known they would act like that" I mumbled to myself, but I could still feel the tickling sensation I had felt when the cockroaches were on me. It was different this time, somehow I felt comfortable with it-my father's fingers.