“Give me your dreams, boy, and I’ll let you sleep another night,” whispered the invader, his fuzzy mouth lightly brushing Jack’s ear as he slept.

“Boys need their dreams,” growled Castagere, the dream guardian sworn to protect the budding imaginations of Jack and his little brother John. Unfurling himself from under the bed, the great monster extended his razor-sharp claws, reaching for the teddy bear across the chest of the sleeping child. “I’ll tear the stuffing from your seams.”

“Ah. Tonight you are a fearful, frightnening monster; last night you were a ferocious lion,” chided the Bear, raising his wooden sword. “What’ll you be tomorrow, Rush Limbaugh?”

“Back it up, fur ball!” said Castagere, flicking the Bears button nose with the tip of a claw, a hollow thwock filling the quiet room.

The incredulous bear jumped down from the bed, sheathed his sword and, as he rubbed his tiny, black nose, he said, “Fine, you overgrown gecko, but I’ll be back. I’ll take those dreams no matter how scary you are.”