These aren't the stories your mother told you.

No, these are the other stories.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Silas Speculo's Hall of Mirrors

Written by Matt Butcher, narrated by Ian McEwen.

Every night, for two weeks now, I've had the same dream, or iterations thereof.

From what part of my subconscious this dream is formed remains unclear,

as none of its themes parallel any real life experience.

Why this recurring dream began to occupy my mind so abruptly,

and to the exclusion of all else, is also a mystery.

But regardless, I visit the same imagined place every time I close my eyes at night.

Music I close my eyes at night. The dream always begins the same.

I'm drifting through a forest, a foot or so above the mossy ground, and the night air is

cool against my skin.

The mist around me takes transient form to twirl and dance as playful nymphs that lure me further into the woodlands depths.

All around me, lurking behind the trees, are the ghosts of troubling memories, whispering voices hiss of childhood embarrassment, and the

inadequacies that followed me into adulthood. I learned quickly to ignore these inner demons as

best as I could, as they only stole my arrival at the dream's focal point, Silas Speculo's

hole of mirrors.

Ahead the tree's part to reveal a colourfully lit circus tent.

Its twin peaks extend impossibly far into the pitch-black sky above,

and to further the surreality expected of dreams,

...