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Thursday, March 18, 2004

Maybe it's because I am too far beyond my teenage years. I thought, yeah, it would be nice to go to bed and have a good creepy nightmare. I thought Freddie Krueger would appreciate a fresh sacrifice. Yes, it would have been nice to be sucked up by my bed, just like Johnny Depp, and to re-emerge as a geyser.

Tonight I play a trick on fate: I will finally sleep in the bed I bought a year ago. In the room without a lock on the door. At the foot of the stairs. Behind the very door where the spectre pauses during his nightly haunts.

Will I emerge unscathed in the morning? Will I be left a babbling lunatic after my brush with the image of lingering death? Will I suddenly utter prophetic sonnets about marmots and pinatas?

I hope so. I'd like to join the other people who allowed the Body Snatchers to invade.

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