Dear Nightmares

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Dear Nightmares,
We’ve known each other for, what, 25 years now?
It’s been a while, that’s for sure. Hell, I’m pretty used to you by now.
But last night? Last night marked a new low.
For those who have had the misfortune of sharing a bed with me, it’s pretty common for me to wake up, roughly, 5 or 6 times in one night. Not ideal for the person next to me, but for me?
It’s a reset.
I get a new dream, preferably one without clowns or needles.
Except last night… the dream started with a Robert Englund-type figure as my college professor. No, the nightmare wasn’t about being back in college. As the dream progressed, Robert Englund-wannabe was killing off students one by one in an effort to engage the class in his criminal psych class. It ended with him giving us all lethal injections cuz evidently we had never watched Scooby Doo before and none of us guessed that the creepy dude did it.
Then I woke up.
Okay, not bad, but a little weird… my next dream was that we were in his class again and he was up to his same dirty tricks, with slightly different methods of execution.
I dreamed a sequel.
More than that, I dreamed a shitty sequel that completely ignores the fatalistic ending of the first dream.
So here’s the deal, Nightmares. You keep doin’ what you do and I’ll cope with the sleepless nights, but no more sequels!
Sincerely,
Calhoun

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