I had a
dream about murder that I want to tell you about. I fully understand that I’m
having these dreams because I’m under stimulated but what are you going to do?
I have no excuse for leaving the house except for the bi-weekly grocery trip
which I am taking full advantage of but it is not enough.
Especially as the
days feel longer and I’m slowly running out of things to do.
I hate
knitting.
I know I
said it would be good for me to stab things other than people but I get so
bored just sitting there. So I’ve been watching workout videos.
And doing
them. I’m also participating in the videos I’m watching.
I’ve been cleaning
the house like crazy.
I just need
to do something.
So yeah, I
had a dream that made me really miss the old days even though it’s only been a
month.
As soon as
I can’t do something, I really, really want to do it.
So. My
dream.
There’s a
woman across the street and she’s leaving the gym with a small yellow duffel
bag. She’s drinking from a black water bottle and chatting to someone through
her headphones. I stay across the street but follow close behind her. She heads
in one direction for a few blocks and then stops at a florist shop on the
corner. I take the opportunity to cross the street so I’m right outside the
door when she exits with a dozen orange roses. I remember thinking something like:
I want to paint the roses red. I follow right behind her for maybe a block
before she suddenly turns around and stares at me. That’s how I knew it was a
dream because she looked like Charlotte. I still think about the Westburns sometimes,
and all the damage they did to my family. But she wasn’t Charlotte, she just
looked like Charlotte. She said something but it just sounds like noise. Garbled
and far away. But it didn’t matter because I just grabbed the flowers out of
her hand and ran into the alley. And I then I got to the end of the alley and I
was surrounded. I turned around and threw the flowers down as she caught up to
me. She said something again but I couldn’t hear it – she was probably yelling
at me for stealing her roses and running away. And then I had a rope in my
hand. I squeezed it tight and my hands started to bleed. There were pieces of
wire sticking out of the rope all over. Jagged and sharp. Even though my hands were
still bleeding I threw the rope around her neck and pulled her close so I could
get a better grip. The rope started to turn red as I squeezed her tighter and
tighter. She wasn’t resisting though. She just stood there as I strangled her.
It made me angry so I threw her up against the wall but when her head hit the brick,
she smiled at me. My hands were all torn up at this point, I don’t know that I
could even feel them. And she wasn’t fighting me so I kept banging her head
against the wall. It was hurting her. It was killing her. I heard her skull
crack, I saw blood and hair on the brick behind her every time I lifted her
head to go again. But she wouldn’t stop smiling at me. After what felt like
hours of hit her head and squeezing her throat, she finally collapsed at my
feet. Her eyes were wide open and she was smiling but she wasn’t moving. I
watched the blood swim from her head and turn the gravel a dark red colour. And
then I looked over at the flowers and they were withering away but they weren’t
red like I wanted them to be.
And then I
woke up to my alarm.
Because a
consistent schedule is supposed to be good for your mind, body, and soul.
Don’t know
what the fuck that dream was, though.
I keep
thinking about it. About my hands bleeding, and the woman smiling, and the
orange roses. I don’t know what it all means but it sure was something.
Anyways. I
miss murder, but I also clearly have something else going on. Or maybe I don’t.
Maybe a dream is just a dream.
Who. Knows.
As always,
dear readers,
Stay Safe
(Seriously)
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