Actual Nightmares I Had As A Toddler
“Why are you crying, Anne?” a syrupy voice asks.
A stranger’s hands near to change my diapers.
She grabs the waistband and pulls it. I flail.
On my family patio, slurping
Melted Ice cream, I slump, suddenly blind.
“She’s not breathing!” I hear my cousin shout.
I know I am dead. This doesn’t bother me.
With an animated beige body like
Wendy’s from Peter Pan, I have little
Apple breasts ripening through my nightgown.
They heave. I cannot move. Captain Hook has
Lashed me to the mast. A thick bullwhip cracks.
I scream and leap out of bed. Parents rush in.
I explain, “I can’t get a PhD until I
Am at least twenty-eight. What if all the
Egyptian mysteries get solved by then?”
I sit in a white parked car. Momma shops.
A shadowy man in a trench coat and
Cowboy hat stares at me through the windshield.
I stare back. I smile. He smiles back. I ask,
“Are you here to kill me?” “Not yet,” he whispers.
Melted Ice cream, I slump, suddenly blind.
“She’s not breathing!” I hear my cousin shout.
I know I am dead. This doesn’t bother me.
With an animated beige body like
Wendy’s from Peter Pan, I have little
Apple breasts ripening through my nightgown.
They heave. I cannot move. Captain Hook has
Lashed me to the mast. A thick bullwhip cracks.
I scream and leap out of bed. Parents rush in.
I explain, “I can’t get a PhD until I
Am at least twenty-eight. What if all the
Egyptian mysteries get solved by then?”
I sit in a white parked car. Momma shops.
A shadowy man in a trench coat and
Cowboy hat stares at me through the windshield.
I stare back. I smile. He smiles back. I ask,
“Are you here to kill me?” “Not yet,” he whispers.