November 15

No unusual dreams during my MLST.

I am taken to a closed off room that's sparsely decorated like a hotel room. It's soundproof, which raises a few disturbing memories of what happened in Audrey Rose. I settle my new wave of fears by listing the differences; that Ivy hadn't been in a sleep lab when she died, she had been hypnotized. And by reminding myself that Audrey Rose is fiction.

I restrain myself from asking if the room is truly soundproof, knowing I will be truly unsettled if the doctors answer "Yes it is."

One of the technicians applies sensors to my face and chest and legs. The chest sensors, he informs me, will track my breathing and the nodes on my legs will pick up leg movements. The sensors attached to my head are fairly self explanatory.

I climb into the bed, which seems more welcoming than the bed in my ordinary hospital room. I try not to move around too much. I don't want to rub off the jelly and detach the sensors. Or get jelly in the sheets.

I was not sure how they would get me to sleep: if they would count backwards like if I were on anesthesia or what. Apparently they just wait for me to fall asleep on my own. I think it would take me a long time for me to doze off, but it doesn't. The next thing I know, I wake up and a nurse escort me back to my hospital room.

II

Ben jostles me awake.

I give a surprised, incoherent grunt. Before I have a chance to get outraged, he whispers contritely, "Sorry, I thought I should wake you before anything . . ."

I find I am already sitting up. I check the time. Six fifty. The hospital is starting its bustling day.

"You were talking in your sleep," Ben tells me, still contrite.

"I didn't know that." Not that it should be any surprise, if in my sleep I stumble around bleeding and hide in my closet from the boogeyman.

"What'd I say?" I ask, because Ben is not volunteering it.

He pauses, getting that trapped look. "You said 'Michael."

"Oh." Oh, shit! is what I really mean. I know I vowed not to seduce Ben, but that doesn't mean I want him thinking I belong on a funny farm.

Maybe I did dream the other night. Which is both good news and bad news. The good news is Michael Myers had not climbed through my window and knifed me in my sleep. The bad news is I might be certifiably insane.

III

By noon, the lab has sent my MLST results to Dr. Mixter and Dr. Egan, but not yet to my parents or me. Dr. Egan consents to see me.

"Tell me about your birthday," he begins.

"This birthday?" I ask, thinking my parents have told him about the JUDITH ring and the JUDITH cake.

"Your birthdate in general. You say it is November first?"

"That's the date on my date on my birth certificate." I rely on that excuse.

"I understand from Dr. Mixter that there was a flux of a minute or two in recording your birthday. That you were actually born October thirty-first?"

"At midnight," I clarify. "Which is technically November first."

"The date, to be technical, changes at the minute of 12:01, not twelve o' clock. You know that, don't you, Stella?"

I shrug. I have had this quibble over my birthdate before. In eighth grade, my science teacher tried to inform me of my correct birthday. A newcomer to Haddonfield, he did not understand the stigma of the day I was born and thought my parents were just ignorant.

I wonder if Dr. Egan is bringing this up for the same reason; to put order to all the misinformation of the universe.

"Does your birthdate make you uneasy?" Dr. Egan asks now.

"Not really." Changing my birth date was my parents' idea.

"It would be a very inauspicious date. You are aware that you were born not only on that day of the year, but the very night of the Myers murders."

"I know," I answer civilly.

"Do you think about that a lot?"

"Define a lot," I query. "I'm studying to be a forensic psychologist when I grow up. So if you mean I am more interested in the Myers case than my friends and family, then yes. If you mean am I obsessing over the case, then no." I don't count the recent events as obsession, because of course the recent murders would have a great impact on anyone's life.

Dr. Egan shifts in his chair. "That's a very interesting career pursuit. What prompted you to choose such a path?"

"I'm interested in mysteries."

"And you see Michael Myers as a mystery?"

I repeat my sentiments of what Michael Myers represents: the debate of what makes someone a killer.

Dr. Egan nods, stopping , I suppose, to ponder the origins of Michael's homicidal rage. Maybe he has read Dr. Loomis's book and is looking back to some key passages that would provide insight to the killer.

"What do you know about the tragedy in the Myers family from that night?" he asks, subtlely dangling the phrase "the night you were born" at the end of his question.

"It's been pretty well covered," I remind him. "His sister Judith was supposed to be babysitting him but instead she was upstairs with a guy. Michael put on a mask -" (I dodge the reference that it was the mask Steve brought to the house) " - and kills his stepfather, then Judith's date. Then he goes upstairs and kills Judith."

"He was wearing a mask then?" Dr. Egan says.

"Yes," I say impatiently.

Dr. Egan smiles at the revelation. It's not a broad, showy smile but it hints at a smirk.

"Do you ever wonder if you are, perhaps, compelled to learn about this tragedy because it happened on the day you were born?"

"I doubt it's as simple as that," I deny.

"What did you do on Halloween this year?"

I pause. Halloween seems so long ago, I have trouble remembering.

"I stayed home. Passed out candy to trick or treaters. Then I went to my room to read and go to sleep."

"What time did you go to bed?"

"Ten-thirty." I guess. I cannot remember exactly.

"Do you usually go to bed at that time?"

"On weekends, I usually stay up later."

"But you didn't that night, even though it was a Friday?"

"Yes."

"Did you have any unusual activities in your sleep that night? Nightmares or sleepwalking?"

"No." Again, I am unsure. Halloween night - for me - was a blur of non-events. I hadn't been excited about Halloween this year. I forestalled plans with my friends to go to any parties or hang out at their houses or go trick or treating. I hadn't wanted to do anything. I guess I was too tired.