"I only know him in the dark"

No, this story is nothing like Jojo's song...
but I am pretty sure it inspired her to write it.

Back at Joe4Oil, high-roommate had a best friend who was at this apartment more than I was. He was just another member of our hodgepodge family. He didn't talk all that much and spent most of his time in high-roommate's room so he was no bother at all. (except that time he DESTROYED the greatest travel mug ever created! but it was an accident... and it was pretty funny that metal in a microwave was not on his list of concerning actions prior to that moment... but that is neither here nor there... nor is it actually relevant to the story I tell you today)

So one night I am sleeping and I am jerked out of sleep,

not by a noise, but by a presence.

You know those moments when you know the brain is capable of so much more than we use it for? This was one of those moments.
My brain woke me up because there was a presence in my room, not making a sound, but something in me knew that there was something wrong.
Joe4Oil was on a main street and we had some questionable neighbors, maybe they were outside my window.
I like to sleep in the pitch dark, so much so that I usually cover my alarm clock so I do not have that light.
But in the dark, I know something is wrong.
My brain in fixating as if something were to the left of me, and towering over me,
To say that I was scared was an understatement.
I could not see a figure, I could not hear a figure, but I could sense it.
I am wondering if this figure, who I assume to be some crazy serial-killer bent on killing me then raping my corpse (fair assumption) knows that I am there, inches away from him.
I slink back against the wall and try to make it to the end of my bed. (my bed is in the corner of my room, one side has an awe murderer and the other is free, but the furthest away from me)
I inch to the end of the bed, trying to not alert my homicidal friend to my whereabouts.
Then I hear shuffling
Holy shit, it is looking for me.
Should I yell to high-roommate? Maybe she can get out of the house and my death can slow the killer down. (Sister isn't home this evening.) And there is no way I am going out without a fight.
I grab the heaviest object around and prepare for war.
it happens to be my cataloging binder... WAR HE SHALL HAVE!
as I prepare to launch my binder I hear his breath.

the hair standing up on the back of my neck relaxes

not because I died... I wouldn't be writing this.

me: "[high-roommate's friend]?"
high-roommate's friend: huh-huh-huh??? in a daze
me: "[high-roommate's friend]?!?!?!?!
high-roommate's friend:what?!!? wha- [brother]?!?!
me: WHAT THE HELL
high-roommate's friend: HOLY SHIT YOU SCARED THE FUCK OUT OF ME!
me: I - I SCARED YOU!?!?!?
high-roommate's friend:what?
me: you're in my room!
high-roommate's friend:obviously still sleeping what? (he walks out of my room and into the bathroom across the hall)

Now that THAT terror is over I think: HOLY SHIT DID HE PEE IN HERE?!?
luckily no.

The next day I see high-roommate and I say: "BAHAHAHA we need to talk"
high-roommate:" about what?"
me: "your friend slept walked into my room and scared the fuck out of me"
high-roommate: "HAHA oh man when he woke up he said "I had a dream about going into [brother's] room last night"
me: "well... that was real, and I have never been so afraid in my life"
(i then relayed all of the emotions I attempted to convey here.)

good... times!