Feeling more than just a bit silly, you remove your normal clothes and slip into the nightgown, which - though loose - is obviously intended for someone much younger - or, at least, shorter - as the hemline is scandalously short.

Creeping out of the closet with just a bit of trepidation, you 'bravely' face down the poltergeist, almost daring it to declare you not 'properly dressed,' but it just nods with approval and motions to the canopy bed, its manner indicating that its way past your perceived bedtime, the bedtime you'd have, at least, if you were the young girl you are dressed as.

It tucks you in with a gentleness that seems out of place given its previous murderous rage and settles down at the foot of your bed to read you a bedtime story.

Whatever the story is about, you couldn't say, for a combination of other concerns troubles your senses. First, it is becoming inordinately difficult to remain awake; you can barely keep your eyes open. And, what would be much more disturbing if you weren't so tired that it almost escapes notice, is that under the covers of the bed, your body is morphing and reshaping, so that you no longer look out of place in a young girl's nightgown. Though you can't see the changes, really, the rise of your body under the covers is much smaller than before, and the number ten settles into your mind, whether that's the time or your new age, it's hard to say.

The apparition doesn't show any indication of leaving before you're well and truly asleep, lost in the dreams of youth.