Only a Transition

After that dream, I wanted to actually do some shit. So I left my house and started looking into this. Just down the street, I found the scene of the murder, people freaking out and waiting on the cops to arrive.

The living room looked exactly like the one in my dream, so I knew for sure that I was somehow dreaming of the right stuff. I could probably get rich if I figured out how to exploit this. But for now, I was a little too worried about the fact that there was a fucking serial killer killing people with the very thing I am afraid of.

I found an older dude who saw me and wanted to talk to me. I felt like I could trust him, I dunno, don't judge me. He looked at me like some kind of war veteran analyzing me for weaknesses, and then he said, "Bet you didn't know that this was not the first murder to happen here." Of course I didn't, what do I look like, some CIA dude? "There was a murder of a girl here that was talked about for years. It was unsolved, a mystery still today." So I asked him what the fuck he wanted me to do about it, and he laughed and said, "Sleep on it."

So I went back to sleep for the last few hours of the night. You know what I dreamed of? Being in that same fuckin' house by that same fuckin' mirror. But this time, in the mirror, I saw that house in the 1950s. It's all I saw, though, 'cause I woke up shortly after and had to go to work.

After work, I stopped by my friend's for my next appointment. This time, I wanted to figure out what happened with that other murder.