He awoke in the night without knowing why. He lay listening for some noise in the house that would explain the dread that gripped his mind, but he heard no sound that would give cause to his uneasiness. He rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table, and lay squinting at the numbers trying to decide 'did they say 5:38, or 3:85? No, that wasn't possible. Maybe it was 8:35, or 5:55. 'I can't read the numbers on the clock,'� he thought. 'When did this happen? What is wrong with my eyes?'�

He turned his head and looked at his wife lying next to him, but he could not make out her features. It was as though he were peering through fog. It wasn't lack of light in the room. A soft radiance from outside cast a glow through the curtains, and by it, he could make out the dresser, the pictures on the wall, the doorway into the hall, and the door to the bathroom. But everything had soft edges. It was impossible to tell where one thing left off and another began. He began to tremble. He considered waking his wife but decided against it. No need to cause her alarm, not yet.

He quietly crawled out of bed without waking her, and made his way into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the light. The image in the mirror was so unclear it was impossible to recognize his face. In vain, he wiped at the mirror several times with his palm. He could see a blur of hair, dark circles for eyes, a fuzzy whiteness for his T shirt, and a mass of indistinct pink flesh that was his face. He bared his teeth in a wide grimace and could tell that he had teeth but could not distinguish them individually 'just a swash of light across the haze that was his face. 'Oh God,'� he thought, 'I must be going blind.'�

With water from the sink, he splashed his face and looked again, but the same vague image greeted him. His fear increased and his heart began to race rapidly. He turned off the light, and darkness filled the room. He could see no image in the mirror before him. With an effort he forced himself to calm down. Standing there, he imagined the face he should have seen in the mirror, a face familiar 'with clean bright teeth, blue eyes, pink lips, and gray blond curls. In his mind, he saw the worry lines on his forehead between his eyes. He saw the pock mark on his cheek just to the left of his nose. He smiled and could see the crooked dimples at the sides of his mouth. He could see the stubble of his unshaven face.

Closing his eyes tightly, he turned on the light. Slowly he opened his eyes, willing himself to see the familiar face he pictured in his mind, but without success. Starring back at him from the mirror was the same non-descript face. A face he was certain belonged to him, but which he did not recognize.

He began to flick the light off and on, off and on. The image of a man standing in a fog with a featureless face was displayed before him repeatedly. As he leaned closer to the mirror attempting to see a clearer image, his hand bumped something on the counter.
Picking up the object, he held it close to his face and tried to discern its features. He could make out two transparent disk held by a framework with folded extensions at each end. He unfolded the extensions and for some unknown reason placed the object on his face, over his eyes.

Suddenly everything became clear. In the mirror, staring at him though a pair of glasses, he saw an old gray haired man with wild blue eyes and a wide open mouth. 'Oh my,'� he thought, 'Oh my, dear Lord,'� and suddenly he laughed out loud.

From the bedroom, on the other side of the closed door, came a voice, 'What is it Honey? Are you alright?'�

At the sound of the voice, terror surged in his heart. He switched off the bathroom light and held his breath. Carefully opening the door, he stepped out of the bathroom. From the dim light of the room he could clearly see that someone was in his bed. 'Oh my,'� he thought, 'when did this happen? Who is that in my bed?'� With small, cautious steps he approached the bed 'softly, as though he was walking through a fog.

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