Suddenly Donald's eyes are wide open, his heart is pounding and he feels something both cool and warm in his outstreched hand. Wait, only one of his arms is outstretched, the other is clapped over his left eye. Once he realizes that he has been given back movement and sight he quickly stands up and wonders why it was so hard to move anyway. He had never had any physical limitations...until these dreams started. He then realizes what it was that felt both cool and warm. In his other hand he holds a long carving knife and his wrist and his hand is dripping blood. Startled, he drops the knife and sees what else has been dropped. All of the kitchen drawers have been ripped from their places and overturned. In the farthest right corner of his kitchen lies the overturned drawer of eating utensils and knives. Donald slowly realizes that he had made this mess; every thought is coming to him in slow motion, "I made this terrific mess----why would I turn my kitchen upside down (Donald had not gone to bed with one dirty dish in the sink since he first started living on his own nearly 5 years ago)---why did I cut my hand with a knife?." He finally takes a moment to examine his bloody hand and sees no cuts or slashes, he then realizes that blood is dripping from somewhere, from his left eye. Now fully awake and aware, he rushes towards the bathroom sink to find many cuts all around his eyelid. There appeared to be no actual cuts on his eye but several deep ones in the bridge of his nose and just above his eyebrow and under his lower lid. Donald is now too freaked out to call anyone, to go anywhere, to even get himself up off the bathroom floor and try to patch his wounds. He doesn't understand how this could all be happening to him. He only remembers his normal night, his normal beer, his normal plan to drink and then get ready for bed and then go to bed. He has been a mild-mannered accountant for the last five years and these dreams that have led to attempted eye gouging are not from his realm of experience, he didn't ask for these dreams, these night terrors and he will not face them--he can't. "That's it!" he screams although he does not hear this as a scream, he thinks he is just talking normally. "I will forget about this, about the dreams, about whatever did or didn't happen when I got home yesterday afternoon---I'm an accountant damnit, if I can't rely on myself to be perfectly normal and mentally balanced then I can't depend on anything." And with that, Donald got into the shower and began to vigoriously scrub his bloody hand.