Letter From Lord Phobetor

Its past midnight, I lay in bed, still wide awake,
I struggle but can't go to sleep,
An uneasy feeling deep down in my heart,
Pricks like a thorn from inside,
The room is now damp and cold,
The air turned stale and now begin to stench,
I reach for the bedside switch, to turn on the lights,
But to my dismay it didn't light up,
I scramble to the window,to let some fresh air in,
Damn! It's jammed, I can't open it,
Struggling in dark I reach for the door,
Turn the knob, oh no! It broke!
The door won't open I am locked inside,
Try to push it open, but I can't, I bang on the door,
I scream out loud,
Pray to Lord, my voice be heard,
But to my dismay,
I recollect,
The building is empty and the neighbours had left,
The stench in air has now grown stronger,
I suffocate and long for fresh air,
Struggling to keep breathing and stay alive,
I reach for the lampstand to break the window pane,
I pick the stand with the strength that's left,
Hurl it towards window and hope the glass breaks,
The stand falls short of the window frame,
The glass didn't break,
I fall down now gasping for air,
Can't breathe, is this my end,
Will I become part of ash, dust & sand?
What happened next I didn't remember,
I woke up next morning on my bed,
The lights were on, the stench was gone,
The windows opened without a struggle,
Even the door knob was alright,
Suddenly I remembered, last night in the bar,
A strange man gave me a note on a paper,
Asking me to read once I reached home,
But I just forgot,
Searched for the paper,
I found it in my coat's pocket,
Opened it and read what was written on it,
I turned white with horror as it described what I suffered,
All in details correct to the last t,
A letter of horror,
Addressed to me by the god of terror,
Undersigned as "Yours' Sincerely, Lord Phobetor".