The heavy metal ballerina danced across my nightmare, sledge hammer in hand. She swung it ever so gracefully at my skull. With dream-only skill I ducked out of the way. She swung again, this time aiming for my crotch. I was saved by the smell of bacon cooking downstairs.
I ate breakfast as quickly as I could, but not quick enough. Mom noticed my eye avoidance and asked me about my nightmare. She knows me too well. I tried to water it down, but it still disturbed her. Of course, she blamed my brother’s video games, which I don’t play