Last night I had a dream about a classroom full of Grim Reapers-in-training. Each Grim was sitting at one of those little chairs with a desk attached, and they were explaining all the reasons why they were interested in joining the Reaper industry.

“I’m really good with people,” one eyeless talking skull explained.

“I like to help those who are working through difficult transition periods,” offered another.

“We each see ourselves as caring companions who offer aid and assistance to those who are moving onto the next plane,” said a third.

I, meanwhile, was doing everything I could to keep my shit together in a room full of talking, robe-wearing skeletons. It was difficult.