The room is dark, slivers of dim light flash here and there from passing cars through the window. The clock on the nightstand reads 2:13 a.m. and in her bed sleeps Erica Martinez, at least her consciousness does. Her body sits upright, the red blinking light on the red glowing eyes of DreamMaster staring into the dark, face expressionless, until their lips curl into a demonic grin. The silence in the room is broken by the metallic Click-Clack of a butterfly knife in their hand.

(DreamMaster): You think they can shut me out, but they’ can’t.

Click-Clack

(DreamMaster): You think you’re safe, but you’re not.

The blade slices across their arm.

(DreamMaster): You think you’ll watch Ring Master unfold to your desires, but you won’t.

Click-Clack

(DreamMaster): I will turn your excitement into terror.

Again a slice, another line of blood is drawn.

(DreamMaster): I will turn your tears from joy to sadness.

Click-Clack

(DreamMaster): I will turn your dreams into nightmares.

Another, cut and the blood faintly glistens in the dim light.

(DreamMaster): I will feed on your suffering.

Click-Clack

(DreamMaster): I will feed on your pain.

A slice across the thigh, face still emotionless.

(DreamMaster): I will feed on your despair.

Click-Clack

(DreamMaster): There is nothing that you can do.

Another cut, across the last, and no reaction.

(DreamMaster): There is nothing that you can say.

Click-Clack

(DreamMaster): There is nothing that can save you.

One final cut across the breast, blood seeping like mother’s milk from their nipple. Suddenly Erica awakens, shooting further upright in bed, sweating and chest heaving and feels the heft of the butterfly knife in her hand and the bedsheets wet with blood and she laughs. She bellows out a high-pitched laugh, nearly a scream into the dark and it feels…wonderful.