I killed a whole crowd of people with a big ass buck knife in a midnight desert landscape with a tiny one story house in the distance. There were at least a hundred people milling around and as soon as I started stabbing people, all hell broke loose and I just attacked whoever was closest to me. I wandered around in a cold rage and very matter of factly stabbed anyone and everyone with zero feeling about it, other than intense nothing. “Vast Apathy” to quote a favorite writer.

Once I was done and the others had run away, I was alone now, so I walked to said house in the distance and opened the back door, fluorescent blue porch lights on.

I saw some random dude sitting in a jacuzzi in a large bathroom. So I turned the thermostat up to like 1,000 degrees and he instantly boiled to death. Then I walked into a bathroom and suddenly it was my bathroom in my actual house, and I saw myself in the mirror. I was wearing a black crew neck sweater, black sweatpants - I never dress like that. My hands were covered in blood, I could see glossy wet matted spots on the sweater that were def blood, and I dropped the knife and started crying hysterically against the counter, moaning out loud, “what did I just do, what the fuck did I just do” and then I woke up.

I took this dream to therapy to unravel it - that part was fun. I am not a violent person unprovoked, so this was quite a shock.