The alarm went off as it does every morning at exactly 6:00am. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, stretched, pulled the covers off and got out of the bed. Normally, I am not one to stare at myself in the mirror in the morning, in fear that I will see something that could result in complete horror; but as I walked past my closet door I couldn't restrain myself from peering into the mirror. It was the same full-length mirror that I had since a child, adorned with stickers and multiple layers of paint. Silly to say, but it was a mirror that I trusted; however, today was different. When I looked into the mirror, I didn't see me, and I didn't see my room. All I saw was black. I rubbed my eyes thinking that I was not fully awake and looked back into the mirror, yet the blackness remained. Could this be just a dream? I pinched myself to make sure I was really awake and sure enough the pain was there. I turned around and took two steps backwards, turned back around and looked into the mirror: black, still. It was then I heard someone calling my name from the other side of the room. I was already freaked out by my mirror, but when I heard an unknown voice coming from my room, it felt like I had died and been placed inside a Wes Craven horror film. As I turned to where the voice was speaking, the strangest image came into view. I examined the plump figure from head to toe: blue suede shoes, white, tight, bellbottoms decorated with gold studs and rhinestones of every color, a belt (the size of a back support, encrusted with jewels fit for only a King), a chest protruding from a jacket, which also was detailed in gold, and hair perfectly greased and slicked back, revealing long sideburns and the most handsome face I had ever seen. Finally, I put it all together, the late Elvis Presley was sitting in my room, King of Rock and Roll himself. I stared in awe, and told myself, "Ashleigh, wake up! You are dreaming."
             "No, baby,&qu...