Burn, Doll, Burn

I don’t embrace a certain thing that happens every week in my sleeping brain. Every once in a while, I have dreams of Chucky the murder doll, dripping of meat and blood. It stopped even being disturbing – more curious. Why? I love Chucky and honestly, it started to amuse me how my brain wants to make me dislike it.

Oh brain. You have no idea what horrors I have seen. My own dear past is much worse than these tiny burned scraps. I will continue loving that foolish abomination of a doll, because…

you shall not pass. Simply. And to the point. Haha.