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But then the little boy, the four-year-old, fell into an REM state, and his dreams had bloay the others It was as if the others’ dreams were on small TVs while the little boy’s dream was on an IMAX movie screen with surround sound

Ies of terrible menace

I beauty

Things that were so

None of it was logical None of itfros It was as if Orsay had tried to stand in front of a tornado

The boy, Little Pete, had seen her Dreah they usually weren’t sure who she was or why she was there They usually ignored her as just another nonsensical element of a random dream

But Little Pete had stepped into his own dreaht at her

“Be careful,” Little Pete said “There’s a monster”

And that hen Orsay had sensed a dark presence, loo up behind her A presence that was like a black hole, eating the light of Little Pete’s dream

There was a na A word Orsay couldn’t make sense of A word she had never heard In the dream she had turned away from Little Pete to face the darkness, to ask it its nae” meant

But Little Pete had s a foolish child who’d been about to touch a hot stove

And she had awakened, expelled frouest at a party

Now, months later, she still winced at the ht since wishing that she could touch Little Pete’s sleeping et that same rush but always failed

She was almost out of food, down to MREs—meals ready to eat, the overly salted meals in a pouch that soldiers and so down fro last for food Just for food

Now Orsay watched from a safe distance, concealed by darkness, as a real-life monster, a boy with a thick, powerful tentacle in place of one arood-bye to a boy who simply disappeared