Foggy crawled into bed late, as usual. Lightning flashed outside his window, followed very closely by the thunder. The storm was intense tonight. With a couple of beers in his system, sleep overtook him quickly enough as he listened to the rain being blown against the glass.

He woke sometime later feeling very uncomfortable. He was cold. He shivered and ached - especially his ribs. His skin crawled as air currents moved across it. Was he coming down with something? A roll of thunder sounded like a truck driving through his head. The traffic below was even louder.

He opened his eyes. Still dark. Very dark. Was the power out? More thunder, but distant. The storm must have knocked out the power. It was still too early to get up. Foggy rolled over and wrapped himself in the blankets. A few more hours' sleep sounded really good. He pulled the blankets up around his chin, trying to ignore the sound of his own pulse thumping in his ears.

It was no use. Sleep wasn't going to happen. He heard a dog bark. Trucks barreled past his building. He heard sirens. More thunder. Too much noise. Was his window open? He rolled over and reached for the bedside lamp, not finding it. He must have knocked it off the table during the night. It didn't matter, though, since the power was out.

He needed to pee. Foggy got to his feet and began shuffling towards the bathroom, keeping his hand in front of him like he'd seen Matt do thousands of times. This wasn't as easy as Matt made it look. His fingers contacted the wall sooner than expected, and he withdrew his hand in surprise. Finding the wall again, this time more carefully, foggy turned to locate the bathroom door, instead walking straight into a large piece of furniture. His upper thigh jammed into a corner, and he winced in pain.

His fingers examined the obstacle, which he determined was a dresser. Foggy didn't own a dresser. All of his clothes were either hanging or stuffed into a couple of laundry bags.

A hundred smells assaulted his nose. He couldn't breathe. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel his blood flowing through every part of his body.

His hands moved faster across the surface, knocking something off the top. As it hit the floor with a loud crack, Foggy noticed-or imagined-a reddish glow briefly outlining the dresser in front of him.

Foggy took a step backwards into the darkness and stood as still as possible. A car passed by on the street below, and the glow took shape momentarily. Foggy listened. More sounds became noticeable, and each one caused him to imagine the strange glow. He didn't understand - what was he seeing? Why was it red? Was he seeing or imagining this? He held his hand in front of his face. Nothing. He snapped his fingers and briefly perceived the outline of his hand and arm, along with several nearby objects.

His eyes saw nothing, but this faint glow was everywhere, behind him, above, below… In his mind. It reacted to sound. He suddenly felt like there were hundreds of shapes, floating all around him. He closed his eyes tightly. That didn't help. He covered his ears and the glow dissipated somewhat.

"What the hell…" Foggy stopped, hearing his voice. "What…" That's not my voice! Foggy touched his face. His face was different. His hair was - gone... Short.

"Foggy… Foggy… Foggy..." an electronic voice sounded. That was Matt's phone! How did… Where is Matt? The glow rippled, bouncing off of the walls, momentarily creating a faint outline of the room. He could tell that the sound of the phone came from behind him.

"Foggy… Foggy… Foggy..."

"Matt! Where are you?" Foggy called out, and realized suddenly that the voice coming from him was Matt's. It hit him: he WAS Matt. At least he was in Matt's body.

Unable, or unwilling, to further comprehend what was happening, Foggy's only thought was to find that phone. He turned in the direction of the sound, and carefully walked forward. His shins found a hard, square edge, sending pain shooting all the way through his legs. He gasped and instinctively reached forward. He felt for what he had just run into and examined it. A footboard. Matt's footboard?

Suddenly realizing that he - Matt - was naked, Foggy found his way onto the bed and wrapped a sheet around his waist. He could feel every fiber in the sheet and every spring in the mattress. Matt had mentioned having sensitive skin, but this was ridiculous.

Foggy sat for a few minutes, staring into nothing. The absurdity of the situation almost made him laugh. He was obviously dreaming; Nobody wakes up in another person's body! He laid back down and tried to will himself awake. This was the strangest, most vivid dream he'd ever had.

"Foggy… Foggy… Foggy…" the phone insisted, interrupting his thoughts. It sounded like it was right next to him.

"Foggy… Fog…" His hands searched the bedside table. The voice stopped as soon as his fingers touched the glass, and the phone vibrated very briefly under his hand.

He wasn't sure what he had done. Had he answered it? Hung up on 'himself'? He wished he could see the screen, but he figured that wasn't the point of the dream. "HELLO?" he said loudly, pressing the phone to his ear. A muffled voice was speaking rapidly from near his cheek. He was holding the damn thing upside-down. How does Matt do it, he wondered, turning the phone around.

The voice on the other end sounded a lot like his own, "... right over. Are you OK? Foggy? Foggy!" Definitely the weirdest dream ever.

"Uh… You… Who is this?" Foggy stammered.

"It's Matt, Foggy. I, uh… I don't know how it happened, but…"

Foggy decided to play along. He interrupted, "... we switched bodies, I think. It's just a dream…"

Hopefully...

There was silence on the other end. Foggy felt mildly panicked. "Hey! Matt! Matt… Hello?"

"Foggy. I don't think you're dreaming, buddy," Matt paused and inhaled quickly, "or we're both having the same really messed up dream. I'm coming over. Stay there."

"Wait, are you-"

With a beep and a short vibration, the call ended. Foggy ran his hand across the smooth glass, and the phone jabbered away in the incomprehensibly rapid voice that Matt swore he understood perfectly. Foggy didn't catch a single word.

Discouraged, he put the phone down. He still needed to pee. He had never needed to do that in a dream. His neck grew hot as he realized Matt might be right.

He was obviously in Matt's apartment. Trying to recall the layout, he stood and walked with a hand in front of him, the other clutching the sheet around himself. Matt's bathroom was to the right of the bed, he remembered. He walked until he found the wall, then carefully-very carefully, as his (Matt's) shins throbbed-ran a hand along the wall, keeping it low this time. He found a doorway. It had to be the bathroom. He searched and found the knob. Opening the door, he timidly extended his hand and felt clothes hanging.

"Dammit," he said out loud. Frustrated and defeated, he slid down to sit against the wall and waited for Matt to arrive in his body.