I am in a fog from a really terrible nightmare that held me down for what felt like hours last night. It was Jonathan Larson, and he was dead, and he was enbalmed, and for some reason, I was in charge of getting his body buried. I had him in his coffin. But I took him home instead. I was dallying. I didn't want to bury it. And then...and then he started talking to me. But limbs were falling off. He smelled of formaldehyde. I took the corpse to the movies. Sometimes the corpse was Nanna. He was too tall for his casket, so his legs were broken on the bottom and folded back. Sometimes he didn't have feet. Sometimes there was only his head. But he told me he loved me and please don't bury him. This went on for a while. Then I finally realized that it wasn't him at all, that the body was being possessed by a demon, and I needed to expel it. So I spoke some words of curse, and it separated from the body and left. I put him back in his coffin. He still spoke, told me he loved me. I told him I loved him too but it was time. So I closed the lid.