it was the kind of dream that you wake up, relieved that it was only a dream.
bloodstains on bedsheets and papers. i tried to hide the bloodied paper that the corpse was found on by ripping them into pieces, but then strangely proceeded to hide them in my roommate's bottom desk drawer. why did i not tried to hide it elsewhere? a promise to meet my friends at 5, i was still cleaning up the blood at 7. i kept thinking how they were going to inevitably find out. i locked the door, scared that someone was going to come in, and blame me for a murder... or murders?... that i cannot remember witnessing... or committing. i tried desperately to clean the pinkish pool of blood on my roommate's bedsheets.
when my friend reached to shake my shoulder to wake me up, i woke up flinching, my heart beating fast... guilty? i have not felt so relieved escaping from a nightmare in a long time... i wonder what it all means, if i'm meant to find any. mean. meant. mint.
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