Blasphemous rumours

I had a terrible nightmare in which men and women got killed or, to be more specific – slaughtered. The murderers used weapons that don’t even yet exist. Or maybe they do, big cast-iron tubes with a handle on one end, and God knows what was in the other. I call it the “evil” end. You place the evil end on one’s stomach, and the tube would dig a deep hole, shoot or slice that person open.

There was a woman sentenced to death. She was naked, and they placed the tube on her vagina. Her lower stomach was all bloody. Before she died, she tongue-kissed the person next to her.

Basically, everyone was sentenced to death, but there was something special about that woman because she reminded me of this fictional character that I created.

I woke up in the middle of the night and scribbled the following onto paper:

“I: This is the dream of…
He: I don’t come here often.”

Hell knows what that means. I don’t even remember talking to anyone in that dream. And I don’t quite remember writing it. I only remember going to bed angry and listening to “Blasphemous rumours” on repeat.

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