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![Not allowed!](images/buttons/down_dis.png)
![Not allowed!](images/buttons/up_dis.png)
“Daddy, I had a bad dream.” I blink my eyes and pull up on my elbows. The clock glows red in the darkness—it’s 3:23.
“Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?”
“No, Daddy.”
The oddness of the situation wakes me up more fully. I can barely make out my daughter’s pale form in the darkness of the room.
“Why not sweetie?”
“Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mummy’s skin sat up.”
The blankets behind me began to shift...
Dear Lord, if you give us back Johnny Cash, we'll give you Justin Bieber.