I woke up panting. My cheeks were wet from all the tears. Oh yeah, such an horrendous dream. "A call, some excuses. Gray sweater and Aavin milk. I am walking. I am walking and texting. A chaperone, I don't remember if I was annoyed. From my right he goes to my left, a bit futher. That truck almost hit him. He stumbles. It's the green garbage cart, yes. That's when death found him-- when he stumbled upon it. Blood. Only blood. Library. Our college library, probably. Oh no, I am dying!" I feared to go to washroom. It'd have been around 3 AM. Why does everything blood-curdling fall on line at such a spooky hour? I have read somewhere that deaths in dreams signify insecurities. Or was it foreboding? Who knows. Another theory says, deaths in dreams are a sign of nearing joy in real life. I don't care. I am exhausted. I only want to go back to sleep. i was so scared. :(
