I swallowed hard.
What should I say? How should I answer?
I had to think fast.
“Who are you?” he repeated, a little louder, a little stronger.
“Uh… you’re dreaming!” I called to him.
He squinted harder at me.
“Go back upstairs,” I told him. “It’s just a dream.”
Would he believe me?
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R. L. Stine, 61 - I Live in Your Basement
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