I awaken to the whistling wind entering through my window and hear a voice whisper, "Wake up." I'm up like a light, waiting to see what happens next. I have no need to look at the clock, but I do. It is 3:30 in the morning. As shadows appear in the light of a full moon, something rolls down the roof. I stay silent in the darkness as the dancing lights glitter around me. It is always like this, but I'm not frightened of what's to come. I know that those by my side stand with me.

It sounds like a dream; doesn't it? But it's not. My name is Miguel Ã??ngel Alaniz. I first started hearing voices one summer night when I became eighteen years old. Every morning, I would wake up at 3:30 a. m. with ghostly shadows around me. I was young when I became a recluse because I thought I was nuts. Then, Vietnam came for me, and I enlisted. For a while, I slept well with the sounds of mortars and machine gun fire. Then, in the dark jungles of Nam, while I slept inside an old bungalow with dead people all around, the voices found me. I went crazy for a while. I don't recall what I did. All I remember is the shadows trying to grab me, and me firing. After that, the voices and shadows stayed with me.

When my tour of duty was over, I was sent home to a hero's welcome. I can still hear them shouting, "War mongrel!," "Child-killer!," "We don't want you!" I went back to being a recluse, fighting my foes at 3:30 a. m. until I couldn't take it anymore. I asked for help in 1975 and the doctor gave me drugs, but the drugs only worsened the problem. I began to see the shadows stirring and starting to get solid. I told him what I was seeing, and he sent me to another psychiatrist. This psychiatric specialist changed my prescription and had me sent to the crazy farm. There he tried to cure me of a sickness that haunted me every night at--3:30 a.m. I became a resident of the psychiatric ward for more than 10 years. Then, one day, while playing checkers with my peers, I happened to see a newspaper clipping about a man that could cure the sick and drive out the dead. I looked at my companions and saw dead smiles in empty eyes. I had to get out. I knew I couldn't just walk out the door, not with those 300 pounds of blonde muscle guarding the exit, and that's not to mention the military police. I had asked the government for help, to tell me what was going inside my head, and they locked me up. I used my head this time. I lied. I told the doctor that I was cured; that his medicines had worked wonders; that I wasn't hearing or seeing anything anymore. He just looked at me, and then I threw in the clincher. I told him that he was the greatest doctor in the world. Of all the bull I fed him, I knew that would work, for as he used his analytical mind on me, I used my street know-how on him. I could smell where his head was all the time. I was discharged the next day.

After 10 years of living a drug induced life, hearing voices telling me to wake up, and seeing ghostly forms glimmering at my side, helping me fight my unseen foes--being free is a dream. I wandered the streets where I grew up, a 35 year-old-man, looking for his home. It was dusk when I got there, and there was a For Sale sign in the front yard. I yanked it out and walked inside to the musty smells of yesteryear. I was happy to be home. In my empty room, I lay down to rest. Looking up at the ceiling, I saw the door leading to the attic and wondered if everything was still there. For some reason I can't explain, I went up there and climbed into the past. Nothing had changed. I opened my antique chest, where dreams were stored, and took out my baby pillow and the blanket my mother made me and lay down to sleep.

In my sleep, I dreamed about my mother. She smiled, shaking the cobwebs from my mind and points to the chest, gliding toward it. Suddenly, darkness fills the room and a voice says, "Wake up." I'm up like a light. It's 3:30 a.m., time to fight. The ghostly glittering forms appeared first, one on each side and one at my feet. Yet, this time another hovered above me, and they started to take form. A growling golden lion appeared on my right, on my left stood a snarling white tiger. By my feet, a black panther's green eyes bathed the room with eerie light, and gliding over head flew an eagle on golden wings. I knew they came to help me and waited, hearing the rolling sound and the thump as something hit the ground. The shadows of darkness appeared next and started to take shape. I felt fear weakening my spirit, but then my guardians let out a spine-lifting roar and attacked those coming through the wall. A flash, as light and darkness came together, and then... nothing. Everything was quiet. I walked toward the chest my mother pointed to and found a letter from my grandfather. Dated:

April 12, 1957

To be continued: