Barrett was torn from his nightmare; his eyes opened involuntarily at the faint, disturbing sound of the doorbell, then slammed shut when they realized the pain, like that of a foreign finger slowly penetrating and threatening to burst the fragile ball. He blinked and stroked his eyelids, apologizing for the rude awakening; his attention shifted, the previous worry as forgotten as his dream. The room was dark, though his eyes still burned as his pupils struggled to dilate through the slits filtered by his eyelashes. He felt like he was climbing out of a swamp. Another faint ring of bell reminded him and he forced himself to look at his watch to see how late he was. The digital display was black without the faintest glimmer of red. The phone's LCD display was also dark. "Shit. Oh, no." He squinted and looked for another reference to time, straining his shortsighted eyes to see across the room, and saw nothing. The stereo and cable box did not display their familiar fuzzy red orbs. He tossed the comforter away and rolled off the bed, pulling a t-shirt from under the bed and fishing out his glasses case before his bare feet hit the floor. He stood up again trying to find his glasses. He turned to the nightstand and curled up on it, then bent down and reached near the headboard and the wall, then searched under the bed, still not finding them. The doorbell rang again. "Damnation!" He stumbled into the hall, stuck his head into the bathroom, thinking that, by chance, he might leave his glasses (and case?) there. Nothing. He coughed and cleared his throat softly, trying not to wake his son, but he still felt the burning sensation of his sore throat. His head throbbed. He did a little jump on his tiptoes when he recognized the glint of the spiky toy on its next path… in the middle of the paper… floor. There was no way he could see a street at that level, let alone one he'd never seen before in what had been a storage room. He jumped against the inside wall and kicked the door shut, the air escaping from his lungs. She ran to her bedroom, then to where Dale's room should have been again. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, then ran back down the hall and paced in front of the door that a moment ago contained a street that shouldn't have been there. “Dale! Where are you?" he shouted. He ran back to the kitchen, then to the front door, unlocked the lock and swung it open. The very sight of the street turned back to him. "Dale! Dale!!" Barrett stepped back and shook his head. He went back down the hall and this time he screamed when he saw that the doors leading to his bedroom, the bathroom and Dale's room showed the same way.