T I M E  F L I E S  1 I ambled down the steps to the basement of my recently purchased home, wielding a flashlight in one hand and a Louisville slugger in the other. My wife was certain she had seen someone down here a couple of days ago as she was cleaning up. Frightened, she asked me to look the place over. The basement was damp but comfortably cool. There were only a few boxes here and there; the walls were stark white, perfectly formed. There was little light save what crept through the single window, which was no bigger than my hand. There were empty shelves layered with dust, and what appeared to be rodent droppings. A broken toilet lay in the far east corner. I had only taken a few steps when I noticed the other stairway leading up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a male figure walking up the steps. A rush of panic over whelmed me. I stood paralyzed. But it wasn't the intruder that frightened me... It was what I had suddenly realized. I had no wife. When my paralysis broke I ran towards the stairway. I had just placed my foot on the first step when numbness took over my left arm. Within seconds I began to feel nauseous and dizzy, barely able to sustain balance. I scrambled up the stairway holding on to railing for support. Vertigo had now almost completely taken hold.  My surroundings swooped and dived, spinning like a warped record. Then, after a few unsuccessful tries, I made it to the top of the stairs. But now instead of dizziness, everything became distorted, and took on the shape of an abstract artwork, as if I were existing in some sort of a Picasso painting. To my left there was a door; I managed (and not without great difficulty) to reach and open it. The man was in my yard, so I tried to run after him. Swiveling, I fell to the ground saying something like, "Stop! I'm an intellectual!"  And then... Then, nothing. 2   At first, there was the sound of humming. I awoke in darkness, with only a cold, hard floor on my side. My legs were swollen and numb, in fact my whole body seemed to lack adequate circulation. And in the hours to come, time seemed a figment of my imagination.   3 Twilight peaked through a window to my right. The sun felt warm and refreshing on my cold skin as I opened my eyes. It took them a moment to focus. I was in what appeared to be a living room.  My living room. It looked rather still, but sterile, was the word that came to mind.      Then slowly, as if some mixture, or formula was settling in my brain, the night's (or was it days ago?) events began to flood back like some mysterious tide. The intruder. The stairs. The blood.    Blood? No. There had been no blood. Or had there? My recollections came to me like photos in a photo album, distant but easily recognizable. As if it had been years since the event. Right now, all I could see was the man (I'm assuming it was a man) walking up the steps in my basement he was a blue blur at first. It floated to the top of the stairs, moving silently, making no sound at all. He didn't even seem to disturb the air about him. My first few tries at sitting up failed. I managed to crawl for a moment and finally get my footing. My ankles trembling, I stood, my head swerving side to side, with the nausea fading quickly. With slow deliberate steps I made it to an armchair and sat down. A faint cloud of dust billowed up from under me and shimmered in the fading sunlight. It was then that I looked around and noticed that everything was covered in a very fine layer of dust. Picking up a clump of dust, I rubbed it between my fingers, letting it float off into the air. I must have sat there for several minutes until I stood up, now almost fully recovered, and walked into the kitchen. Everything was just as it had been before the intrusion. The dishes were stacked neatly in a pile beside the sink. Breakfast, a slice of pizza, sat uneaten and moldy on the dusty table. A few flies were crawling on the rim of the plate. Boxes lined most of the counter space. No fridge or oven yet, but a microwave sat in the corner, ready to use. The door to the basement stairs was still open. A faint sound emanated from it. Humming, droning almost. I took a step towards the stairs when the phone rang. My heart leapt into my throat and then fell into the pit of my stomach. I didn’t move. It rang six times before stopping. I sat in a chair trying to think things through. Who was the man in my basement? Did I dream of having a wife? If so, why did she warn me about the intruder? It made no sense. I’ve been single for 3 years. I almost never remember my dreams, and when I do, they’re only pictures; snapshots of a whole. The phone rang again. Seven rings this time. Looking out the window the twilight has almost faded from the sky. The moon could almost be seen, only partially obscured by clouds.