I heard the buzzing for most of the night, I thought.  It got to an intolerable point, where I was dreaming of insects buzzing and stinging my back.  I could swear something hit my face, not just once, and when I brought my hand up to smack it away I felt like an idiot; completely aware that I was just dreaming.  But something actually hit my hand, and my body jolted like I was just plugged in.  It wasn’t a bug, it was big, the size of a bird maybe, though it felt hard.
	I looked around, my eyes were mostly still asleep, there was a weird tunnel vision effect.  For some reason the lights were on, I always slept in total darkness.  I was on the floor too.  I sat up and looked around at the polished wood flooring, the stone fireplace, and the hunting cabin type wooden chairs.  I couldn’t see any living creature in the room with me and there was nothing nearby that could have touched me.  My eyes weren’t getting any better, in fact they kept shutting off like I was drifting back to sleep, though I think I still stayed conscious.
	I was laying back down, I had been staring at a stone on the fireplace for some time, though when I thought about it I don’t know if I was actually looking at it, or if I was just dreaming that I was looking at it.  My body was oddly numb and I seemed restless, I kept telling myself that I needed to wake up but I had no idea why.  I think I must have gyrated or crawled in my sleep, I couldn’t see it but I knew I wasn’t in the same spot.
	Then it hit me again, this time it was the top of my head.  My eyes snapped up and I knew that I was dreaming about the fireplace, I didn’t even own a fucking fireplace.  I only saw a grey surface, my face was against it and it was cold.
	I was standing too, leaning against whatever it was.  When my eyes opened, it must have drained energy from my legs and I slumped down, still leaning against the grey thing.  My face rubbed against painfully, it wasn’t smooth and my cheek felt like it was being pulled up to my forehead.
	Then I saw the fireplace again, so I knew I was asleep.  I generally felt some kind of tingling, it was something I never consciously knew but I realized it now because of its lack.  There was a lot of numbness and something else.  Maybe a humming or a undulating, not sure where it was focused.
	I heard a clanked behind me and I got up to my knees.  Though when my eyes opened, or at least I was able to focus them, I looked down at my knees and thought that maybe I didn’t get up, maybe I fell down to them.  I didn’t remember moving my back up but it was straight and I was still leaning against the grey thing.
	It was getting hard to determine whether this was the dream, or whether the fireplace was.  Still, I saw it again and I my mind started screaming that I was tired of this, it was time to get up.
	Then something hit my head again, my arms flaied like I threw a punch, actually many punches and my eyes were somewhat working again.  I was standing, I couldn’t really see where, and I spun around.  I couldn’t make out my surroundings, but I didn’t care.  I only desperately wanted to find the thing that was hitting my head.
	Something brushed my hair, and I blindly gropped and got a handful of something.  It was hard, squarish but not cold like metal.  It didn’t seem to fight me, like a bug or an animal would.  In fact, it was much too large to be a bug, and any living thing would be desperately struggling to break free of my hand.  I pulled it close to my face, it didn’t resist, but I couldn’t make out what it was.  I didn’t know what was wrong with my eyes, but I didn’t think that this could be a dream.  Things felt too solid, I don’t ever remember feeling a sharp angle in my dreams.  Whatever was in my hand reminded me of Legos.  Nothing was ever that concrete in a dream.
	Whatever this thing was, it couldn’t have been whatever was hitting my head, it was lifeless.  I relaxed my hand, hoping it would just fall to the ground, I didn’t care if it would break.  I didn’t hear or feel a clunk, it seemed like it floated out of my grasp.
	I moved my hand back to where I let go, and it was still there, like it was floating.  I bumped it, and gently yielded, moving back from my force, but still staying up in the air.  I grabbed it again, this time I heard an odd grinding sound and a shock went up my arm.  It wasn’t pain, but it was startling, something whacked one of my fingers and my arm shot backwards towards me.
	My eyes opened, or at least they focused again, and I jumped backwards.  Whatever it was, it was at waist level, but it slowly rose above my head.  I stepped forward, trying to focus my eyes on it.  The Lego feeling was odd, because it did seem like I was looking at a Lego toy floating up in front of me.
	I got closer, it was right in front of my face, there was wind coming off it like a fan.  My chin felt especially cold, like it was wet.
	My eyes focused enough, somehow I knew I wasn’t dreaming, and I saw this tiny cross between a bird and a helicopter floating in front of me.  I blinked several times and it became clearer.  It was black, though specked with gray.  One part of it, shaped like a tail, was aluminum.  It got the feeling I had been staring at it for a long time, it felt like I went back to sleep somehow and woke up again, with it still right in front of my face.
	It looked like the black parts were carbon fiber.  I didn’t know why, but a rush of anger came over me, and I snatched the thing out of the air.  My eyes instantly got better and I completely ignored the shock that went up my arm.  There was something rotating on it and I stopped it.  It was a feeling I was familier with, I don’t know how long I stood there thinking but I eventually realized it was the feeling of putting your hand in a fan.
	I pulled it back up to my face, it was carbon fiber and aluminum bird type thing.  The aluminum part was a strut that came off the main body, containing a spinning rotor.  I was holding it by this, the rotor stopped dead in my palm.
	I didn’t know what to do, I was afraid whatever it was I had broken it and it was undoubtably expensive.  I’m a cheap fuck, I don’t even buy expensive things like this.  The rotor started up again, ticking harmlessly against my palm, though knocking my hand away.  It floated back up, above my head.
	I grabbed it again, gently, pulling it down to eye level.  It impassivly obeyed, and I studied it close.  I could see right where the head or maybe cockpit would be, there was a type of stamped metal identification tab.  My eyes weren’t good enough to decipher the letters and numbers of what was obviously a serial number, but I could also see a company name, address, and phone number.
	I let it go, it floated up.  It seemed to like being exactly an inch above my head, which would be six foot.  I tapped it with a finger and it gently floated backwards.
	What the hell was this thing and why the fuck was it in my house?  I was awake, that I knew, but I must have been really tired.  Maybe I didn’t get very good sleep with this thing buzzing around, I felt terrible and my brain still seemed half asleep.
	I looked around the room, the first thing I saw was a counter with a home phone on it.  I grabbed the thing, and pulled it with me as I walked, or rather slumped to it.  My legs were heavy and they moved strangley.
	I picked up the phone, looked at the number on the thing and dialed it.  It seemed like it rang forever before someone with a weird accent answered.
	“Hello?” they said.  It was like they weren’t expecting a call, genuinely surprised by this.
	“Hi,” I said.
	“Um, what?”
	“Hello,” I said.
	“I’m sorry?”
	“Hello!” I said loudly.  There was no answer.  “Can you hear me?”
	“Yes,” They paused.  “Yes, I can hear you, I’m just having trouble understanding.”
	“Your accent sucks also,” I said.  I forgot I make jokes a lot.
	“Oh,” they answered, unsurely.
	“Theres a fucking, uh,” I looked back up at the thing to get a better picture of it, it didn’t work.  “There’s a flying fucking thing in my room here.”
	“A flying thing?”
	“Yeah, fucking Habeeb, a flying thing.”
	“What do you mean?” they asked.
	“If I knew what it was, I wouldn’t be calling you.  There’s a flying fucking thing here, what’s it doing here?”
	“What, uh,” They hesitated.  “What does it look like?”
	“It’s black and carbon fiber,” I said.
	They didn’t answer.
	“Did I mention it’s flying also?  You got a lot of flying black and carbon fiber things with your number on it?”
	“It’s a thunderbird unit, you mean?”
	“Didn’t I just ask you what it was?  How the fuck would I know?”
	“I, I don’t know sir.  I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
	“I’m asking,” I had to stop to think what I was asking.  “I’m asking why there’s a flying fucking thing in my bedroom.”
	“Your bedroom?”  They asked.  “Sir, I don’t know.”
	“Look,” I said.  “You grasp why someone would find it odd for a flying thing to be in their room, right?”
	“Yes, yes.  Sir, I don’t know either.  The thunderbirds are scientific instruments.  They’re not for sale to the public, there’s only five of them in the world.”
	“Ok, why the fuck is it in my room, then?”
	“Sir, I don’t know!” they said.
	I couldn’t think of anything more to add to the conversation, I was more confused than when I first called.
	“You say it’s in your bedroom?”
	“Yeah.”
	“Your caller ID says you’re calling from Last Peak.”
	“What’s Last peak?”
	“You’re calling from there, you don’t…” They paused again, they seemed more confused than me.  “Is everything ok there?”
	“Yeah, it’s great, I got a flying thing in my room.  Couldn’t be better.”
	“Sir, I’m not sure why you’re calling.”
	I pushed the end button and put the phone back in its base.