Nothing is ever as it seems.

Plagued by dreams that take me to the abhorrent friction—somewhere else far beyond what’s possible, with the looming notion of a trap underfoot: that’s me.

Fascinated by abject destruction at 3 with Godzilla movies, I moved into Goosebumps and Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark at 7. After that, I advanced straight to screaming in the middle of the night, hearing an anaconda slither through the hallway, or seeing a shape in the hedgerow behind my house. I’ve had dreams of playing card golems chasing me up ancient stairs, Nazis forcing children into meat grinders, and getting lost in the ocean in the midst of an alien invasion.

It won’t stop.

And now I get to share these thoughts with you.

What you read of mine comes from me. There is no creating: these people and things and places exist somewhere, and I can see them.

Now you can, too. I’m so sorry.