The incident itself happened to me the spring semester of 1993 while I was a student at the University of Wyoming.
At the time I was living in Crane Hall, second floor, room #217. I had only occupied this room since the beginning of the semester in mid-January. The room itself was small, constructed of red brick and cinderblock with a whole wall of windows facing west. Throw a rug on the floor hang a few posters and you have any dorm room in America. The atmosphere was dull at best and I actually inhabited the room for the better part of the semester without incident until two weeks before finals.
I was lying on my back asleep when I felt two fingers being dragged from my chin down my throat and across my collarbone. The pressure was enough that the fingernails were painfully scratching me. The moment I woke up the hand pulled away. Because the windows where covered by blinds that never kept out the light from the street lights the room was pretty well lit. For one moment I just lay there staring at the ceiling tiles thinking I was dreaming. Then I began to look around me, from the wall at the foot of my bed, to the windows that denied me enough darkness to sleep properly, to the strange man on my left who was kneeling next to my bed.