"Daddy, I had a terrible dream." You squint your eyes and draw up on your elbows. Your check gleams red in the dimness—it's 3:23.
"Would you like to move into quaint little inn me about it?"
"No, Daddy."
The strangeness of the circumstance awakens you all the more completely. You can scarcely make out your little girl's pale shape in the dimness of your room.
"For what reason not sweetie?"
"Since in my fantasy, when I educated you concerning the fantasy, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up." For a minute, you feel incapacitated; you can't take your eyes off of your girl. The spreads behind you start to move.