I remember walking down a corridor under the building that housed the condo where we were staying. The walls were stucco and the exit at each end was open to the outside. The opening behind lead to the parking lot and the opening ahead looked to the sea. Directly in front of me a young mother was saying something to her son about staying away from some house. When we came out into the sunlight I knew immediately what she meant.

Directly in front of us lay the beach and the sea. Just to the left of the corridor’s opening was a high dune spotted with tufts of long wild grass. At the top of the dune sat a simple house. Its walls were stucco. The house seemed old as if it had withstood a great deal of sea weather. It contrasted sharply with the newness of our condos and the other resort facilities up and down the waterfront. Its roof was rusted corrugated metal. The roof sagged a little but the house seemed generally intact.

As I drifted to my left to walk the base of the dune and look for what concerned the young mother I also took note of the boy who went immediately up a path that would lead to the front door of the house. It did not seem odd to me that the mother did not call to her son to change his course.

As he followed the path past the closed front door he slowed as if to hesitate. Instead, as he came to the door’s threshold he quickened his pace as his youthful bravado left him.

The door did not open but two steps passed it as the boy passed under an adjacent window a gapping paw snapped through the window, wrapped itself around the boy and yanked him away almost two quickly to see.

I stood in disbelief. The mother looked on in a forlorn manner seeming to be waiting for someone to help but not really believing they could.

“Someone should call the police,” I said with a sense of dread.

My dread was deepened by a desire to rescue the boy that was overwhelmed by a dismal fear. After all, what could I have done to help? The monster must be stunningly large and was obviously fast. Whatever it was, it had shown great cunning in its move through the open window. It was the door that robbed the young boy of his bravado. The window had not entered his reckoning.

The police arrived quickly. One, a blonde haired woman, went to talk to people in the gathering crowds who were keeping a surprisingly respectful distance. The other officer, a balding, stocky man asked if I would walk to the door with him. It seemed quite reasonable to approach the house with the officer. I consented without any of the fear that had been gripping me just moments before.

With one hand on his holster the officer knocked at the door. It opened almost immediately.

A thin man with wispy gray hair opened the door. He was wearing knee length shorts that had been converted from pants when the pants were old. He wore no shirt and he was strongly built for his age. He had tanned leathery skin and a weathered face.

The officer came right to the point. “Sir, we’re looking for a boy people say came in here.”

The man gazed at us through the open door with strong, piercing eyes. “There’s no boy in here,” he said in a gravelly voice that contained a much deeper sound than I would have expected.

“Do you mind if we come in?”

“Not at all.”

On entering it took only a glance to see that the house was empty of anyone else. To the back on the right was a small bedroom with door the door wide opened. It contained a modest old bed that left little room for anything else. On a wall to the right was an old worn out couch. To the left and adjacent to the bedroom was the kitchen. It lay fully opened to the front room we were in. The kitchen contained a simple metal and Formica table with two battered chairs.

The old man stepped back to let us in and then took a couple of steps to our left with his back toward us. The officer, with his right hand still casually resting near his holster took two steps in and stopped.

I walked in with unbecoming confidence and took in everything in the house as I began to casually walk toward the kitchen.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but there’s no boy in here,” said the old man with his back toward the officer and gazing at me in a suspicious, but still piercing manner.

As he said this I stepped on a hollow spot in the floor in the kitchen not far from a window that looked out to the sea. I stomped and it was clear that there was space under the floor.

I looked to the man who was still looking at me. My adrenalin began to take hold.

“Found him,” I spoke out in a sing song voice.

What happened next happened all at once. Each movement flashed by as quickly as light.

The old man became the monster and turned on the officer who was unfortunate enough to be closest. I ran and leaped through the near by window. Before I was through I knew the officer was finished. I hit the ground and flew to the sea. The monster was after me in a moment. I do not know what the crowd or the mother or the other officer was thinking.

I ran into the water knowing that I was finished.

I turned.

The monster was at the water’s edge but came no closer. He was massive and terrifying. His glowering eyes continued to be riveted upon me as he paced back and forth never touching the water as it flowed in and out.

The water I was standing in was only up to my calves. I was standing about 20 feet from the shore.

There we stood, gazing quietly at each other.

Then I heard a voice. “Daddy!”

It was my daughter running across the beach toward the shore making sure to take a wide angle to get to me without coming near the angry beast.

At her voice the beast turned and made a menacing move toward her.

“Run, Savannah,” I shouted with a renewed terror. “Run to the water!”

She ran. The monster watched but made no more move toward her.

She got to the water and quickly made her way to me with her eyes fastened on the beast. His eyes were fastened on me. I was distracted by someone else coming through the window of the house. It was the little boy.

I saw the mother still looking on but making no move. Not changing her look. Not running to fetch her little boy. Further on down the beach in the other direction a ways beyond the house I saw the other police officer and the crowd of observers looking on quietly.

The only movements were the pacing monster, the boy and the ocean. All else was still.

The boy walked right toward us. The monster paid no attention to him. The monster only glared at me and paced. I stood with my daughter’s hand in mine.

The boy came closer.

“It’s OK,” he said, reassuringly. “It’s OK.” He was nearing the water and the monster who still paid no attention to him.

“It’s OK.”

…and then I woke up.