The nightmares came back. When they were only raging reasoning zombis it wasn't that bad, except when I shot someone I knew because I suspected him. Guilt was overwelming. Now I dream of hunting and it's worse.
My other-father, another hunter and me-child. We were checking traps, there were curled up baby cangaroos in them. The fur was a dark grayish brown and their tails, thicker than they should have been, covered their body and faces. They looked packaged.
I was scared of the other hunter, as if he may enter a blood frenzy any second, or was already in one.
There was a kitten in one of the traps. One of his eyes was popped out, a white goo floating from his eye socket. I tried to hide him and ran off. The other hunter wasn't far back. When he reached us he threw the kitten in the air.
I was in my mother's house. Outside a storm raged and for some reason there was death out. There was just my mother and me there. I went to my room and it was full of cats and that was disastrous. Someone else was with me, we had to throw out, through the window, all the cats. This was painful but it was important we did it. We kept the kittens in. All except the kittens.
Someone found the kitten with the missing eye. It was almost dead. I was afraid it was or would be soon.
Other things happened. I couldn't feed them all, I couldn't keep them all from what happened outside, I don't know what else happened. I woke up, scared, crying, I don't know why.
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