An entry to the AW Horror Poetry Contest.
I see you are already preparing.
Seriously. That could be the germ of an excellent horror poem, as I think of it.
When I have insomnia, it often seems like the night is standing still. I'm usually pretty much all right for most of the night (you get used to insomnia), but there's sometimes a horrible hour in there for me, and it usually hits between 3:30 and 4:30 -- too late to get any real sleep, and too early to get up (though I often do). The clock thing hit in the midst of it. It really did feel surreal and nightmarish.