He made no noise as he moved, seeming to glide as he hovered closer to my Bear I Play Golf Because Punching People Is Frowned Upon Vintage Retro Shirts. His long thin arms reached down to me as I moaned through paralyzed lips. I could not scream, even though I very much wanted to. His fingers reaching through the darkness, down to my face. Two pointed fingers touched against my eyelids, pushing them closed. I remember his fingertips feeling cool, but not cold. Even though the ends of his fingertips looked sharp, his touch was gentle.
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I did as instructed, convincing myself that it indeed was a dream. Even if it wasn’t, the back of my Bear I Play Golf Because Punching People Is Frowned Upon Vintage Retro Shirts was more reassuring than looking into those piercing red eyes in his vacant mask of a face. I closed my eyes, wanting it to be a dream, willing it to be a dream. I woke up the next morning, thankfully able to move, walk and talk. I explained what I saw to my parents, who both agreed that it was a dream. My mom tried floating the idea that something from Shrek 2 scared me but neither my dad or I bought it. For confirmation, dad asked that I draw a picture of what I saw for them. As I was drawing, I ran out of black crayon and had to finish his legs with the next darkest color in my crayon box.