[ WP ] In a dream , you encounter a paper bag containing another dimension from which a murderous reptile hand emerges to maim anyone who disturbs the bag . You awake to find a paper bag outside your bedroom door ...

Gage sat up suddenly. 
 
 Scary movies, haunted houses, frightening novels, - he found enticing. He chose them. Forcing himself to be afraid, to face his fears, was something he enjoyed. 
 
 Nightmares were a different thing completely. With a nightmare, he had no choice. 
 
 He found the lack of control, as a horror unfolded within the synapses of his mind, left him feeling weak and powerless. He pursued fear because he wanted to have power over it. He did not want it to have power over him. In his nightmares, his choices gone, it did. 
 
 `` Stop being a baby!'' He said to himself. 
 
 It was n't that this nightmare had been particularly scary. In the dream, there was only a brown a paper bag siting alone in he middle of the floor. His dream self, had reached into the bag only to have his hand grabbed by another. A hand that was green and lizard like - almost alien in structure and form. It was stupid really. 
 
 He laughed at himself, as he sat in his bed, his white t-shirt sticky and see through with sweat. Still laughing, he got up to pee. Opening the bedroom door he moved towards the hall - what he saw on the hall floor made his stop. 
 
 `` Eeeeeeeeh.'' He screamed, as he sucked in air, almost squealing. He was surprised that such a feminine sound came from his mouth. 
 
 He stared at the brown paper bag, partly crumpled with the top folded slightly. It was the size of a grocery bag, but had no label. It looked eerily like the bag from his dream. 
 
 He continued to stare at the bag. 
 
 `` You're being a baby.'' He said to himself. `` Just open the bag.'' 
 
 He did n't move. 
 
 `` Come on man. This ai n't a dream. You are in control....and you got ta pee. Now just look in the bag.'' 
 
 He still did n't move. 
 
 `` Okay it is time to man up. Now come on. You'd make fun of somebody acting like this. It's just a bag.'' 
 
 He looked inside his doorway and found a metal hanger on the floor. Grabbing it tightly he turned back toward the bag. 
 
 Bending over just a bit, he poked the bag with the metal hanger. And then.... 
 
..... 
 
 Nothing happened. 
 
 He started laughing to himself and poked the bag again. 
 
 Still nothing. 
 
 He put the hanger down. 
 
 Gage bent further over and grasped the bag. He carefully unfolded and pulled it open as it's brown fibers made a crunching sound. He spread the mouth of the bag wide. 
 
 Inside he found the source of his fear, two dusty wingtip shoes, courtesy of his messy roommate. 
 
 He laughed harder, bent over in the hall, looking at the shoes. 
 
 In one motion, a strong green hand grasped his ankle as another covered his mouth and pulled him backwards, still hunched over, and launched him into his room. 
 
 He never had time to scream. 
 
 He was never in control.
