Paul woke with a start. He had seen himself, as he is now, standing in a white void. The creature within him spoke, and his surrounding began to shift from white to red.
"Paul!", it screamed.
He didn't understand what the dream could mean. It sounded infuriated, yet he could not fathom why. He was sweating, and shaky. The thought of returning to sleep terrified him, and so, he descended the stairs to begin his day four hours earlier than he would have liked.
"Paul, what is the matter?", Maya asked the man stumbling blindly into the kitchen.
"I'm not sure... I had a nightmare. Couldn't sleep." He told her about the dream, and she was as perplexed as he was. Neither of them thought that the alien was communicating through the dream, but rather, it was a premonition. Though Paul and Maya tried, they were unable to think of what he could do to bring forth such rage from the creature dwelling within his body.
Paul, clad in his bathrobe, poured himself a bowl of stale corn flakes. As he ate, he could feel the being stir. His energy began to drain, not quickly enough to cause faint, but enough to be noticed. It was like this every time, the alien, this "child", robbed him of precious energy every time it woke up. He needed to eat three times that of a normal human in order to avoid collapse from malnourishment.
Unable to shake his thoughts of the nightmare, Paul traveled back upstairs to bathe, and prepare to look for information with Maya. They needed to find out what happens when the creature is born. Whether the alien can be released into the world safely, or if it is a parasite that will devour it's host in the process of leaving the body..
Maya had her concerns for Paul. He grew paler by the day, and this latest nightmare was not his first since contracting the viral life form. He has had many strange dreams, most only of voices. Whispers, songs, shouts. Never his own, but his mother's voice along with the creature and others, have been the sole structure of each nightmare. She heard him, from time to time, humming or whispering to the tune of "My only sunshine"; a song he had told her was the song his mother sang to him most.