That night, I had a strange dream. In it, I was sitting on the couch late at night, watching TV. I heard a noise upstairs, like something pounding. I looked around for my baseball bat, and could only find a tiny one I’d received during “Bat Day” at a Phillies game once. Stupidly believing that it would protect me, I ventured up the stairs. The noise grew louder, and I promptly realized it was coming from behind my parents’ door. Dreading what I would see — my parents having sex or something — I was nonetheless
