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September 19, 2011

Scary Story

by Harley

Last week a bloodcurdling midnight cry of “MOMMY!” sent me racing to the bedroom of my 9-year old daughter.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.


“Bad dream?”

“No.” she shuddered. “It was a . . . story.”

She wouldn’t discuss it, but insisted I sleep with her, which I did, on her twin bed that accommodated most of me, although not my left arm.

 I’m used to Nightmare Patrol. One scary night last month my older daughter asked me to sleep on her top bunk. Our dog Cairo, not used to seeing me up there, began barking. I hopped out of bed to reassure Cairo, only I miscalculated how far it was to the ground, so my daughter woke to see me fly through air and crash into her desk, further terrifying both her and the dog.

St1 Anyhow. The next day I asked my 9-year old if she remembered what scared her. “Of course,” she said. “At recess, Jenna told us this story about a girl named Molly who went to a doll store and found this really ugly doll holding up two fingers, like a peace sign and the man who worked at the doll store told her never to take her eyes off this doll, but one night Molly forgot and left the doll in the kitchen, and she heard the doll on the stairs and it yelled out, ‘Hey, Molly. I’m on the first step.’ And then, ‘Hey, Molly, I’m on the second step.’ And like that all the way up the stairs and then Molly hears the doll say, ‘Hey, Molly, I’m outside your bedroom’ and then, ‘Hey, Molly, I’m right here by your bed.’ And then the doll cuts off Molly’s head. Oh, yeah – and the doll guy knew that would probably happen, because the doll had already cut off two other girls’ heads and that’s why she was holding up two fingers.”

 Okay. Leaving aside questions like “is being left overnight in a kitchen motivation enough to turn a doll into a murderer?” and whether the doll salesman had some moral or legal liability in the matter, what struck me about this story was its popularity. Among pre-adolescents in our neighborhood, “Molly’s Murderous Doll” is the #1 scary story.

In my day it was “Dead Babysitter.” You know, where the babysitter gets the phone call saying, “I’m three blocks away . . . I’m on your street . . . I’M IN THE HOUSE.”

For my friend F. Paul Wilson, with whom I discussed this at Bouchercon, the story in the Fpaulwilsonkeep 'hood was “The Hook,” featuring a one-handed killer who preyed upon teens parked on Lover’s Lane, which ends with a satisfying . . . hook. Paul, who knows from horror, feels it’s all in the ending (and recommends Ray Bradbury’s short story, “October Game” as a case in point.)

It is all in the ending. I came home from Bouchercon to find that my son, perhaps to torment his sisters, had checked out a book called Scary Stories, on which the school library had slapped the exciting warning label: THIS BOOK FOR 4th and 5th GRADERS ONLY. Alas, the book was a bitter disappointment. Several of the stories ended with the word “Boo!”

Which wouldn't even scare a 3rd grader.

Shatner Here’s my kind of ending: discovering that things that once frightened me no longer do. Like high school principals, driving on the freeway, soufflés, speaking French in France, clowns, root canals, Nightmare at 20,000 Feet. Or Bob, our family mannequin who used to scare us all, even the dogs, but now only scares the Ukrainian dishwasher repairmen.

I am, however, still scared of those twin girls in The Shining, The_shining_twins-10808 the Gregg Hurwitz novel with the severed head in the refrigerator and Don’t Look Now (I can't even post those stills). Dead children who, for one reason or another, remain behind to haunt the new inhabitants of their old houses. Victorian clothing.

But Molly’s Murderous Doll? Ha. I could take her down.


And you? Apart from cancer, war, or natural disaster, what scares you? And what do you laugh in the face of?



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Those twins - creepiest ever! Any creepy child in a movie gets to me, in fact. Also, stop-action fiends jerking along walls and ceilings. Insane asylums, murky things floating in jars, Guillermo del Toro movies, the Catholic Church...to name a few...

Hope Bouchercon was good this year! :-) I met you briefly last year. (I knew Renee back in the day.)

I'm fairly fearless with most daily things, but I still get the heebie jeebies from...

Old abandoned hospitals

Really odd noises at night (one night some dickwit walked past our house playing a flute and creeped me out)

Pennywise the Clown (When I saw Tim Curry do the part in the TV miniseries, I left all of the house lights on that night)

Old people walking in the fog or just late at night

Women with crazy eyes (like Michelle Bachman has)

Walking in the fog out in the country (I'm ok with fog in town, but out in the country, I start thinking of Lovecraftian stuff or The Mist)

Dolls. Clowns. Gremlins on wings.

I think I watched too much TWILIGHT ZONE when I was a child....

Raccoons. Those little hands scare the hell out of me.

There is an episode of Dr. Who called "Blink" (I think) that has a storyline similar to Molly's Murderous Doll. I didn't turn my back on angel statues for awhile after that

Sometimes I realize I've been reading too many murder mysteries when I enter a place for the first time and automatically check for bodies. For some reason, this isn't scary, just a pain in the ass.

You mean besides A CLOCKWORK ORANGE?

For YEARS I as totally spooked by the idea of Charles Manson and his cohorts crawling around on the bedroom floors of people's houses in the middle of the night just to see if they could get away with it. And we all know what THAT escalated into. Now I.........jeez, I'm thinking about Charles Manson again and how am I going to get that out of my head before bedtime????

In my day, I didn't need neighborhood ghost stories, I had the Zodiac Killer. I was a small child in the Bay Area at the time he was in the news, and that just freaked the hell out of me. I remember insisting on going around our apartment every night making sure the doors and windows were all locked, because I was convinced he might break in at any moment. I was not the sort of kid who should have been allowed to read newspapers.

Now what scares me is this computer. It's got a billion programs, 99.99% of them completely incomprehensible to me, and it's always doing strange things on its own initiative that I don't quite understand. I sometimes think it runs me, rather than the other way around.

Sorry, Undine, but you're probably right about the computer. Does it actually tell you to do things? Like . . . go over to Nancy's house and crawl around on the bedroom floor?

Kathy, I've been checking for bodies for years. And when I go for a run in a lovely pastoral setting, I can't help but think, "body dump" -- doesn't everyone?

And Doc -- not just old abandoned hospitals, but old abandoned MENTAL hospitals! Do you know that Camarillo State Mental Institution is now a college of some sort? That's a setting just begging for a horror novel. The book could write itself.

The scary story I remember was some version of "thump, drag." An unfortunate babysitter got her legs and arms chopped off, so had to drag herself up the stairs by her chin.

I used to be scared of dolls, but now that I've turned to voodoo, I scare people with dolls. It's more fun to be the scare-er than the scare-ee.

I'm totally intrigued by "one night some dickwit walked past our house playing a flute" - come on, Doc, details!

Spiders. Sorry, it's mundane, but spiders and centipedes give me the willies. I can't even watch them on tv, so sorry, Harley, I will never see that movie. Bridges also freak me out, although it's been years since I've had nightmares about them.

I read a book 25 years ago that creeped me out so bad I had trouble falling asleep for months. I was in college, and sleeping on those skinny little dorm beds was a challenge anyway, but I'd get the heebie jeebies if my hand or foot extended past the edge of the bed. Oddly, the book itself wasn't all that scary - it was an Ellery Queen novel called A Fine and Private Place. Something about the victim's obsession with the number 9 really shook me, though.

Harley, I'm thinking at least one of your children will also end up being a novelist. What a good mom you are, cramming yourself into whichever bunk they insist you sleep on!

When I saw the original Invasion the Body Snatchers on TV I must have been about 11. After that I could not go down into the basement at night. For YEARS. And if I did have to go, for some reason, I'd run up the stairs as though the hounds of Hell were snapping at my heels. That movie was terrifying. The remake, by the way, was not at all scary, in comparison. And it even had special effects the first one didn't have.

Now, though? Hardly anything is scary, after having two of my daughters wandering around Thailand as college students, BY THEMSELVES, and not together, in different years. After that? Everything else is easy.

It was SO much fun to see various Tarts at Bouchercon! You are all so gracious and lovely. Thanks for being so nice to Mary, Diana and me!

For those who are scratching their heads, Bouchercon was the convention that Hank, Heather, Elaine and I attended, along with Karen, Storyteller Mary and Diana, our lovely back-bloggers. Did I forget anyone?

For those scratching their heads about Doc's nocturnal flute-player, I'm no help. Doc? I mean, I practice my drums, but I don't go walking the streets with them.

Anyone else having trouble remembering to do that code-thing after commenting? I'm so used to typing a comment, hitting "post" and walking away from the computer. I'm sure all my best lines have been lost this past week.

Doc, I used to live less than a mile from two abandoned hospitals. One was a city hospital built in the late 1880s. The other one, well there were some "issues" at the other one in the late 1940's. An author fictionalized those issues. The book is called "The Exorcist.

I love the Shining. Those are some scary little girls. It is surprising how many newer movies have similar scenes in them now.

The only thing that scares me is the Tea Party. They keep reminding me that once the most technically advanced progressive country on the planet had a fringe party whose leader wrote a book about how he could make his country great. He had a few followers and then a few more. And then he one elections. And then he changed the rules about elections. Then he followed exactly the plan he wrote in his book. He was Time magazine's man of the year.

I am getting more than a little perturbed at Mr. Typepad too. I wish I could figure out when I need to verify my posts and when not and witch ones it will eat, like yesterday's.

So it goes.

In the real world: snakes. But I don't like to be scared to I don't go to those movies, and as soon as the eerie music begins, I switch channels.

(It would be helpful if that code thingy immediately preceded "Post a comment" - I keep forgetting it, too, Harley.)

Peeping Toms. When I was a kid, we had one in our little town (not far from where Ed Gein snacked on his friends and neighbors, so I was already on high alert) who often left ladders outside people's bedroom windows. He was caught when my sister's boyfriend spotted him looking in our neighbor's window and it turned out to be the creepy guy who was always trying to tell me dirty jokes at the ice skating rink.

So I'm pretty big on window coverings.

I also look in the closets and behind the shower curtain--especially behind the shower curtain!--when I check into a hotel room.

Have any of the Philadelphia area peeps visited the Eastern State Penitentiary? It's supposed to be a great scary field trip.

Puke. Can't deal with it, can't think about it. When one of my kids hurls, it is absolutely my husband's job to clean it up, clean up the kid, and deal with whatever happens again later. I sit on the toilet, holding the walls, panting, sweating, having a panic attack. After literally getting the crap scared out of me, I go sleep in the basement. Well, I don't sleep, but I stay down there.

The problem I've had is that sometimes my husband is not home when one of the kids barfs. Then I have to be an adult, be the mom, and take care of all of it. And I do, but I don't like it, and my husband gets an earful about how EVERY time he goes out of town, somebody gets sick.

Childhood scary stories? We didn't have any. I think the foreboding of a life in Wisconsin was scary enough for any of us.

I can't listen to anything in depth about the news except very dry economic news because of the trite, over-used, and absolutely true 'man's inhumanity to man.' What we as humans allow ourselves to do is unspeakable, and yet we keep on finding new unspeakable acts.

I think that if you sign in to Typepad, you don't have to complete the captcha coding.

The lady who lived across the street when I was growing up was VERY theatrical. There was a whole gang of kids she's invite over about this time of year and read ghost stories.
You are right. The ending is always the hide under the covers moment for me.
She was brilliant and we's all squeal and duck and cover and then stay totally awake when we got home scared to pieces at anything that moved.
We had hard wood floors and there was one cat that loved to get under my bed and lay upside down and pull on the lining. Occasionally she's also pull down the sheet corner.
If that's not a leap to the door in a single bound and be between your parents shaking with fright in their bed moment,I don't know what was.
The priginal Body Snatchers got to me too.
No hide behind the popcorn bag movies for me anymore.
My imagination is scary enough.

This is so embarrassing, Harley, but just reading your Molly doll story got chills going up and down my arms. Really, that's pathetic! I'm a (very) grown woman! But I was a girl who wouldn't let other girls tell scary stories at slumber parties because I was so terrified of those tales. What a control freak! I don't know how they stood me. And now I'm not scared of nearly as many things--except, apparently, Harley telling stories of creepy dolls named Molly.

Oh, hmm. Well. Last week, I was down in the basement of a 140 year old building that used to be a courthouse, and the original stone cells were still there, and they were totally--and I mean totally--dark with the light off. I walked into a couple--with the light bulbs turned ON-- and REALLY wanted to go back upstairs.

I had recurring nightmares that ended when I took Tai Kwan Do . . .
My many allergies give me enough concerns without seeking others.
There is a trick for dealing with nightmares that I learned from Jackie Torrence -- lots of scary stuff in those Appalachians -- put your shoes by the bed and have them point in two different directions, to confuse the haints. If very scared, get a pair of mommy or daddy's shoes because they are bigger (and the displace shoes would coincidentally alert parents to problems afoot ;-)

I had a great time with Karen, Elaine, Harley, Hank . . . hated to have the weekend end, but now it's time to head off for aqua, must care for the body as well as the mind . . .

I've been fighting...er discussing my new bills with At$T this morning. Sorry for the type o's.
Undine? Is your computer named HAL?

Snakes. And Rick Perry. (hmm. maybe that's the same fear.)

Elaine: Har!

After browsing the book room at Bouchercon, I realized I will no longer subject myself to horrific acts of fictional violence, for the same reason Holly avoids the sensationalist news. I am really overdosed on that stuff, especially the Scarpetti type torture/rape/dismemberment violence. One of the last books of hers I read was so disturbing that I had to stop reading the rest of them. I have lovely author pals who write this way, and even though I'm a big fan of them personally, I cannot read their work.

Is that a fear, per se? No, but when I read that kind of books I tend to be more fearful, in general.

Can't watch horror movies. I think every kid heard the story of "the hook" but those tales never scared me. Large snakes on the other hand...My backyard borders the woods of Zion Cemetery so I usually have small garter snakes and lots of other critters in my yard which is no big deal. A couple of summers ago I had put my trash at the curb and looked up just in time to see a 6' black snake trying to climb my storm door. (I had never seen a snake on my front porch before much less one that large). All I could think of for several days was thank goodness I hadn't gone out the front door and let the snake get in my house. For weeks I was very careful to check for snakes when I went out the front door. I know black snakes are not venomous but I really don't care.

Any atypical loud noise that wakes me up during the night also terrifies me. Most of the time I have to get up and investigate or I know I'll never go back to sleep.

I'm with Elaine, Rick Perry scares me too.

It was so great to see Elaine and meet Harley, Hank, Storyteller Mary and Karen. I saw Heather on a couple of panels but didn't get a chance to meet her. Hope to see all of you in 2012.

The Flying Monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. They STILL scare me. Also, the tornado scenes from the same movie.

Spiders. I will ALWAYS be afraid of spiders.

And Technology! I agree with Undine! I had to buy a new printer for my home computer the other day. The on-line reviews said that even an idiot could set it up in less than ten minutes. Whoever wrote that does not know THIS Idiot! My plan was to set it up before dinner, eat, clean the kitchen, and print out my homework for an Adult Ed class I'm taking. At 9 PM, when my stomach began growling, I realized that I'd better stop to eat dinner. After following all the directions over and over and over again, I not only could not get it to print, I couldn't even turn the damn thing off! I yanked the plug from the socket, plugged it back in again, turned it on - and it suddenly started spitting out all the "test" copies. I ate dinner close to 10PM. Never got around to the homework until yesterday.

I just came back from a run in the canyons, and I was alone for 85 minutes except for snake tracks, bunnies, and one VERY LARGE coyote with the gigantic ears. We were both on the trail, jogging toward each other, then both of us stopped, stared, and just as I started thinking, "wow, does he realize he's bigger than a German Shepherd and could eat me if he wanted?" he shrugged and took a right turn up into the hillside.

So strange to think I am some other creature's nightmare.

Diana, this is some nice synchronicity--just yesterday I wrote a scene that takes place at a house on the edge of a cemetery and I had a big black snake show up, figuring that was about right for such a place. And today, bless you, you confirm my intuition. Thank you!

Does everyone get to live next to cemeteries and old, abandoned hospitals except me?

Not me. But I do have a very creepy alley behind my house. If I forget to put the trash out there before dark, it doesn't go out till morning.

Glad to be of service Nancy. We missed you at Bouchercon.

Harley, I'm surrounded by cemeteries. There are 6 within a 2 or 3 mile range of my house. I would pass 3 (including Zion) on the way to the high school.The school district in which I taught used to complain that we had more people underground than above - and they no longer paid taxes. There is a huge one next to the HS (I think Dred Scott's wife is buried there) and one directly across the street from the HS.

When I first moved into my house (in '75) St. Vincent's Psychiatric Hospital (the top of which is visible from my house) was still in operation. In the winter it looks like a medieval castle. First time visitors to my home always ask what that building is.

I don't know, Harley. Hollywood has made the suburbs really scary too :). The Molly story is really shivery. My fears are common, heights, snakes. And definitely Rick Perry and Michele Bachman.

I had a nightmare when I was a teen after reading Helter Skelter, I dreamt that Manson and his gang were all let out of jail and put on a bus and sent north, in the dream they were on the ferry coming to Nanaimo where I used to live. I nearly barfed when I woke up I was so scared. That was one time I wish my mom kept better track of the books I was reading and said NO.

I am scared of groups of drunk people, no, not social occasions where people are drinking but going places where there may be out-of-control drinking, really try not to let that happen.

Driving to new places where I might get lost also scares me. One of these days I will be able to afford a GPS.

My grandfather was the sexton of the Catholic cemetery in our hometown, and he and Grandma lived in the caretaker's house on the edge of same. We kids grew up playing there on Sunday afternoons after church, and we all learned to drive by driving backwards through the twisty, hilly lanes. Instead of being scary for us, it was a fun and lovely place to learn about periodic cicadas, and to roll down the grassy hill (or sled down) where the mausoleum is now.

When I was in high school we moved to a rented house on the next street, in between which was the town's non-Catholic cemetery. I used to walk through it to get to Grandma's, and as a shortcut to take my little brother to his Little League games. There is a small, peaceful pond, nearly hidden from the road that goes to the WWII veterans' part of the cemetery, and sitting there on teenaged angst-ridden summer days was the perfect balm to my wounded heart.

We also have a small family cemetery at our farm, with gravestones from the mid-1800's. It's on a hill overlooking the valley, and is very likely the prettiest and most private spot on our farm, except for the creek crossing at the bottom of that hill.

I could never be afraid of cemeteries.

Ok, I'll explain about the wandering flute player.

It was a couple of years ago and a nice spring night, about 12:30. I had opened up a bunch of windows to air out the house because, you know, dogs live here. Around about 12:45, I hear flute music, very faintly. It's not the tv, wife and dogs are asleep and don't own flutes anyway. No radios on and the music is getting louder. WTF?

Now, I had been reading a friends writings on Lovecraft just a few hours earlier, so visions of "The Music Of Erich Zann" and Outer Gods dancing about to the piping of atonal flutes leapt unbidden into my head, sending me into Hair Sticking Up On the BacK Of The Neck mode.

Still, I'm the cat that curiousity has not yet killed, so I go into the game room where the window faces the street and I'm hearing that music pretty loud and then I see...

...some goofy looking teenage guy walking along playing a flute. So I yelled "Hey, pinhead, it's after midnight!" Which scared the hell out of him and caused him to run flat out for about 100 yards.

Serves him right for scaring me and not even playing something by Jethro Tull.

Gaylin, just so you know, I'm pretty sure my GPS is haunted. Her name is Betty and she is always trying in her seductive, "turn left, turn left, I SAID LEFT!" voice to get me to drive into cemeteries.

I keep thinking of that unfortunate babysitter of Ramona's, trying to pull herself upstairs by her chin because her arms and legs had been cut off. That is going to put a serious cramp in her babysitting career. Or do I mean "crimp"?

Harley: Camarillo State was an old nuthouse? Oh hell no, I'll never go there. That's prime slasher movie territory.

I once went with some friends to examine an old teberculosis sanitorium. It was noon time of a cloudless sunny day and we still left rather rapidly after only about 20 minutes. It was just too damned eerie.

If I heard a flute at midnight, I'd be thinking "Pied Piper of Hamlin" and I'd lock up the children. That is just unnecessarily weird.

By the way, at least Mr. Typepad's "Please type in this code so we know you're not a robot" instructions are pretty simple. Have you ever had to type in a code that looked like a bunch of snakes tap dancing? And you're supposed to discern actual letters of the alphabet and it's impossible?

Yes thank goodness these codes are legible. Add eye "floaters" to the problem and you want to kick the computer down the street or scream. Even if they say click here if you can't read this the next one is usually just as illegible. Snakes tap dancing is a good description.

Thank you, Doc. That is a good story.

I just saw a snake in my yard. I must be getting blase about my fears, because I just shooed it away with my rake.

I wish somebody would shoo Rick Perry away with a rake.

I think Rick Perry *is* a rake.

If it's Bouchercon time again that is scary, because it means I've been blogging back at you for a year. I didn't know what Bouchercon was. I didn't know what back blogging was. The writer I followed over here - because her books broke my busted mind and helped me reassemble it - blogged once (twice?), disappeared from the TLC roll crawl, and never came back. Here I sit. Shit.

Happy Backblogging Anniversary, Reine! I can't remember a time you weren't with us. Thanks for visiting and just staying.

Our house in the country is right next to the cemetery. My kids often say: "We'll go have a walk in the cemetry."

Windows of a very good friend of mine give on the biggest cemetery in Paris "Père Lacahise". If you go on the balcony you see all these graves very close. The street's name is very symbolic: "Rue du Repos" (Rest street).

When I was reading this blog earlier today, I couldn't really say what my particular fear was except of course common causes evryone is afraid of.

Now I know: to come home and to see your computer virused. That's what happenned to me this night. I cannot turn it on, it says something strange to me and doesn't work. Weird if you didn't hear me yealling. I was swearing like a sailor. After some fruitless attempts, I took out an old laptop from the drawer that strangely seems to work. Now I'm just wondering how I can restore my contacts whiche are all noted in the Outlook in the old computer.

But like this I had something to write in this blog today.

Sorry for typo "Père Lachaise". Must still be under the impact of the tonight's shock.

Yes, Paulina, I'm sure we had dozens, if not hundreds of readers up in arms about a misspelling in French.

Père Lachaise was at the top of my list the first time I visited Paris, and I dragged my husband there on our honeymoon. No one does cemeteries like the French. Lucky you!

Mais j'en suis desolée about that computer.

Gaylin, drunk people scare me, too. I'm a lot of fun at a party. Not.

Harley, my mom used to walk home through a cemetery in the woods from her job at a tuberculosis hospital, which is now the state department of human services or something like that. She had a creepy patient follow her one night. I wasn't even allowed in the woods during the day after that.

I used to work in an office building across the street from the Vancouver cemetary, it takes up a large amount of land in the city and I loved having it there, quiet neighbours.

Oh and my biggest fear would be going blind, I sometimes have dreams that I am going blind or unable to open my eyes. Since I stopped napping in a bright room, those have stopped, thank goodness. Even with this fear I did manage to go and get my eyes lasered, being nearsighted to -8.25 was close enough to blind for me to want to take the risk of getting them fixed.

Desolée, Paulina.

Gaylin! As a child, I used to spend large amounts of time trying to decide if it would be better to go blind or to go deaf. Just in case I went blind, I memorized a bunch of songs on the piano so I'd have something to do.

With my luck, I'd have then gone deaf.

TERRIFIED OF ROACHES. I think? Or it is such an immediate adrenaline fueled loathing it feels like terror?

I admire you for not being scared to speak French in France. I am terrified of trying to say French words in AMERICA.

I drink Lacroix water and call it Sparkle water because I have no idea how to say that.

What most frightens me is the increasing attitude of "it's not my problem" when someone is confronted with injustice, torture, racial hatred, theft by the powerful from the poor. I watch them shrug their shoulders and I lose hope. That is frightening.

There were twins in The Shining? That must have been while I had my eyes closed.

When I was small, I watched a Twilight Zone episode in which there was a hole in the universe next to the child's bed, but nobody could see it, I think . . . and the child fell in. For several years, I would NOT get out of bed until bright daylight, and I still do not get up at night 99% of the time, but not any longer because I'm afraid of that invisible hole.

I am not a fan of scary stories, because my imagination is already tilted way to the 'sudden loss and terror' end of the scale, and doesn't need feeding.

Doc, your story of the guy with the flute reminded me of one thing that DOES scare me: scaring somebody else! I would have been running after the guy, apologising like mad, begging him not to be frightened. I once inadvertently surprised someone in the dark and was horrified when they screamed bloody murder . . . took me hours to calm down.

Not sure why the little code box is not showing up for me this time--it has been pretty consistent lately, and yes, I've forgotten several times.

About children’ fears who want their Mom to sleep with them.
This night while having an unpleasant dream and screaming in my dream (was it because of computer viruses that affected me so badly?...), I felt someone was shaking me. It was my 9 y.o. who told me that I was screaming so loudly that woke her up. Apparently I was screaming in reality not in my dream. Damn it. I thanked my daughter for waking me up and she proposed me to sleep with me in case I was too afraid. Isn’t it nice? I finally walked her back in her room.

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