6. Dear Kiddo, Take My Hand Into Darkness

I can’t sleep, Kiddo. Worse, I can’t dream without Mom showing up, uninvited, like she’s got season tickets to the inside of my head. It’s not the comforting kind of dream where everyone smiles and there’s soft music playing in the background. No, these dreams are like being trapped in a psychological escape room, and Mom is the omnipresent narrator pointing out all the ways I screwed up.