It gets stranger

Last night’s Nightmare.

I was in bed, flipping inattentively through a catalogue. I put it down. “Hey,” I heard a little voice say.

It was coming from the catalogue. I glanced over. “Now that I have your attention, I can continue…” the little voice said.

Amused, I watched as the catalogue’s pages turned.

One of the pages tore.

“You are going too fast,” I said. “Slow down.”

A page ripped out. “Turn over,” I said.

When I went to reach for the catalogue, wanting to take a closer look at its intriguing items and clothing, a woman approached me with a catalogue in her hand. “Here, give me that one and take this one,” she said.

“No. I want this one,” I told her, holding the catalogue against me.

“All the items are the same,” she insisted, grabbing me. “Don’t make me do this!”

“Young woman,” I said. “Take your hands off me.”

I was becoming fearful, but resolute. All I had to do was wake up to win this battle.

Which I did.

In the corner of my bedroom, on the ceiling, was a small box about five inches by three inches.

Coming from the box was a tube that extended within inches of my head. As I watched the tube retracted, telescoping back into the box, then the box slipped through the wall. Of course, I no longer had the catalogue. Who won?

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