When I returned with the doctor, the look on my mother's and sister's faces were all I needed to know that something was terribly wrong. My father had passed away while I was returning and the doctor wasn't finished with my brother until early the next morning. He said that he had done all that he could do, and that the chances were slim, but we'd know in three days time if my brother would recover or slip away into the dream. All we could do now was wait, and try to decipher the cryptic mutterings of my brother trapped in his slumber. Haunted by what was soon to haunt all of us, haunted by what was once a dream, nothing more than a tale told to scare children, haunted by a nightmare come to life.

He has arisen, and I fear it is already too late...