“Hello, friend.”

I didn’t raise my head to acknowledge the voice. There wasn’t any way that someone could be there. Therefore this had to be a dream or hallucination.

A doughy hand landed on my arm, moist and warm. “Don’t be like that. I can help you.”

“Go away.” I mumbled into my chest.

If I could feel it, did it make it real? How often did I feel things in my dreams?

“How are you?”

A thick appendage prodded my shoulder. I cracked open one eye to see a corpulent creature, like a sack of flour that had gotten wet, standing triumphantly on my desk. Its crazed eyes looked like clocks, their hands ticking away. Underneath, a toothless wedge of a mouth smirked.

“C’mon. How are you feeling. Tell me, I’ll listen. I’m a good listener. Promise.”

I’d humor him. Whether dream or hallucination, I’d only really be humoring myself. “Do you ever feel like you just want to kill everybody?”

“Oh yes, friend! If only I had more than these weak flippers.” He wiggled the fingers at the end of his arm flaps for emphasis.