For many of us, the mental anguish came first; the sliding scale of madness on an undiagnosed spectrum. I had thought it was only me. Not until the The Glazing did the truth begin to reveal itself in the concordant pain of all the others. We all began to awaken then, struggling from a dreamed consciousness, wisps of the ethereal floating out and mingling all the components of perceived reality. Pixels of knowing merged and began to take shape, the emergent visuals clearer before opened eyes. Hazy awareness fought to rise amid the desire to sleep on in blissful ignorance where haunting occurred only sometimes in dreams. But only sometimes.