Is the lamp flickering? It's hard to tell if you look directly at it. No, it's probably fine. Just your tired eyes. Wait, no. That was a flicker. Definitely a flicker. Make sure it's plugged in all the way. Okay. That's better. Nice, steady, -- crap. There it goes again. You're certain it's not your imagination. Maybe try turning it off, then on again. You roll over to the other side of the bed, feel for the knob, and twist. It's off. The room is dark. Okay. One. Two.

...

Three. Click. On again. Nice and steady. Okay. No more flickering. Just one more chapter and then you'll drift fast asleep. You roll back over and pick up your book. Oh. It's not there. It must have fallen. You peek over the edge of the bed to check the floor. You lie back down, puzzled. The lamp flickers again. Ah, there's the book. It fell on the ceiling. That can't be right. Dirty socks, your alarm clock and a bracelet drift upwards. That's not right at all.

A gentle breeze blows through the window, fluttering the half-drawn curtains. Your mother raps on the glass. She's upside down. Not right at all. She whispers,

The light flickers and turns off.

It's dark. The air conditioning hums to life. You hear your chair thud gently against the ceiling. First the back. Thud. Then the seat. Thud. Your window creaks closed. Click. The lamp is on. Now littered with the loose parts of your room, the ceiling twists and opens, quietly. I hope you tucked the corners in.