Dark Doll

I am in a strange bedroom, it is unfamiliar and foreign to me, but at the same time it is also vaguely reminiscent of my room in Augusta and my room in the old house. My parents are there, somewhere, in another room. I cannot see them but I can hear them and feel their presence upon the Dreaming. I am readying myself for bed. I am preparing the room for the coming of the night time wolf. I make sure all the doors are locked, all the windows are shut, the covers are pulled up tight.

He is here. He cannot get in through the doors or the windows. I pull the covers down and tread softly to the door. I open it. There is no wolf. Instead there is a doll. It is male. It is soft and plushy, neither hard nor plastic. He has long, stringy, damp looking hair. He has dark circles beneath his eyes. He is dressed like a gothic prince, and reminds me of the artist, quiet and refined, like Keanu Reeves, Neil Gaiman, or Johnny Depp. The smile on his face is both sickly and sick.