“Daddy, I had a bad dream.” I blink my eyes and pull up on my elbows. The clock glows red in the darkness—it’s 3:23.

“Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?”

“No, Daddy.”

The oddness of the situation wakes me up more fully. I can barely make out my daughter’s pale form in the darkness of the room.

“Why not sweetie?”

“Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mummy’s skin sat up.”

The blankets behind me began to shift...