In the later evening there was a giant one on the ceiling of my bedroom. I am not one to kill bugs, other than nasty spiders, so I left him alone and went back in the living room. When I was ready for bed, I checked around and he was gone. I wasn't all that worried about him until I turned the lights out. The second it went pitch black I kept picturing him crawling from the wall and onto my pillow. I swear I could feel him by my ears and then my legs. Each tiny little leg tap, tapping on my freaked out skin. I batted and swatted; even turned on the light to see if he was there. When the light flicked on bright, blinding my sleepy eyes, the only thing in bed with me was my imagination. It is weird how our minds can play tricks on us and make us think or even feel like something is there.
When you are younger they tell you to "get out of your head" or "Earth to Nova" but honestly I love being in my head where there are always places to visit, people to see, and adventures to have. I think you really need that time. Everyone does. I guess it is very Peter Pan of me but I feel like the day we loose that in ourselves, is the day we give up on life. If a child gives you a talking doll, you better talk back. You never know if that child can one day use that imagination to create the next Harry Potter. Let them teach you not to be so jaded in your adult life.