So the other day I went to the dentist and asked her what kind of workplace nightmares she has—you know, the normal conversations you have with someone you have drooled on for 30 minutes (and apologized for, repeatedly).

“Blood. Lots of Blood,” she replied.

Then she described the true horror: “You know when you are eating watermelon and spitting out the seeds. My nightmares involve spitting out teeth. More and more teeth.”

Yep, her workplace dreams sure beat my forgot-to-wear-pants-hope-the-students-don’t-notice nightmares. Or the recent one in which I brought only a pillow and a notebook to a knife fight. Even in my dreams I am unprepared…

So for your prompt, write a poem or short story about the last nightmare you had. Fill in the gaps where necessary. Color in the blanks. Make them red and dripping, or surreal and disturbing as that cooing baby sun from the Teletubbies.

For added difficulty, create a turn in the story; for the poem, make it a sonnet with the shift coming either at the 9th line (Petrarchan) or at the 13th (Shakespearean).

Good luck!

Bonus prompt: This is your head; now tell us your memories from inside the jar.