They sleep in the dirt like the dead, but not merely dead. These still trouble the world as sleepwalkers. On nights like tonight, when the veil separating our worlds is troubled by a great wind, they might be seen. Phantoms of decay, frightful forms, wandering in the corner of your eye.
Tonight is a special night, my friend, for the dreams and dreamers—nightmare is come. It is said you should never wake a somnambulist, but someone is about to. When they see, when they open their eyes unto the horror that they have become…then the screaming will begin.
Tale Told 