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It's the middle of the night and I hear a loud crash. Desperately, I survey the room. It's my old room. The one from my teen years.
Terrified, I run down the hall of my childhood home, toward another bedroom where Practical Joe is sleeping. Apparently my dreams are already predicting us sleeping in separate beds. I shake him.
"There's someone trying to get in the house!" I say, my voice trembling.
As slow as always, he moseys out of bed and I dash toward the…