"When I was younger, I had an imaginary friend who lived in this massive antique dresser. We'd chill out, and I vividly remember him telling me stories, although I have absolutely no recollection of what they actually were.
I remember one day talking to my parents about it. Dad traveled quite a bit, so he wasn't up-to-date with what I was into and when I started telling him about my dresser buddy, he wanted to know his name. It was something innocent like Peter or Patrick, but I can still see him going white in the face.
I drew Peter/Patrick out for him and the very next day, he and my uncle took out that dresser and burned it. It wasn't until a few years later when I found out my Dad's little brother (my uncle) also had the same friend with the same name who lived in the same antique dresser.
After a few months of the typical imaginary friend sh*t, my uncle started having night terrors and couldn't sleep because of Peter/Patrick. It got so bad that they had to move him out of his room before he managed to get back to normal."