I mean it doesn't have an effect on me now...but sometimes I look at those dolls and shudder at the thought of them running...following...waiting....speaking....[u]killing...[/u] some days I stare at the end of my bed, expecting to blink and see them sitting there. A cold soulless stare. And I'll be forced to accept my fate. And I'll run. And run. And run. I'll finally escape.... But the exit is gone There is no exit Not for this dream. Never for that dream