The Zombie

Every night, at 9 o'clock, I go to sleep wishing for a sweet and quiet dream. Oh, I wish. I don't know exactly the time, but it has to be dawn, when something suddenly moves, comes close to me and lays down on the floor, breathing right on my face. It bothers me and let it know with a sleepy complain. I used to wake up and walk away but now I don't. I just turn around and fall asleep again, cheek to cheek, for who knows how long, until dad calls my mother's name and right then I know the nightmare is over. She goes back to bed with dad and we sleep happily ever after.