The Dream

I was in my crib. The bars were up and I couldn't get out. There were clowns, mean clowns with dark red mouths and black eyes. They had blood tears painted on their faces and skulls on their jumpers. They wore black boots instead of red shoes and their noses while red were mishaped as if the rubber had melted.

One was at the top, pulling the crib and two were at the rear pushing.

Up the spiral staircase of the tower, racing to the top. Higher and higher they went, laughing maniacally and screeching like hyenas.

I could see the moon through my tears but it never seemed to get closer. I could see the bottom of the staircase but it kept getting farther away.

I woke screaming, my brother shaking me.