You are running for your life down dark, labyrinthine corridors, your heart    
pounding almost as loudly as the heavy boots of your relentless pursuer. But   
your legs are collapsing under you, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. At the
last, strength fails you and you collapse face-down upon the unforgiving       
concrete. Cold hands grasp your neck, hauling you upright, forcing your        
unwilling eyes open to gaze into the hard, cruel, familiar face of your captor 
- and you scream with the horrible recognition that those twisted features are 
your own.                                                                      
                                                                               
You are still screaming when you awaken in sweat-drenched clothes, deeply      
relieved that it was only a dream. Yet something is not right. Why does the    
darkness beyond the window look so threatening? Why do the sounds of the night 
bear such menace? Indeed, why are you in such constant...                      
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