I apologize for ending the last chapter so abruptly. The dream was so painful to try to recall* again that my fingers rebelled and would not put it on paper.**
I have now regained my composure and will continue where I left off:
The man (who remained unaware of his predicament) absorbed the crowy mist into his skin. Some subjective seconds passed before he suddenly stopped being a man and began a new life as a large murder-flavored pudding. The glow gradually dissipated and the flow of time resumed its previous manner of timeyness. I noticed a murder of crows fly past the window outside at a completely reasonable velocity. The only thing that had not returned to normal was the well-being of my customer.
And now, the joyful childlike squeal that I had merely sensed before from my feet was fully audible and all-encompassingly disturbing.
The dream was over.
Except it wasn’t. It had ended, but another dream immediately followed, showing me the next murder. And then I saw the one after that and so on and so on. I relived the murderous murders of my neighbors, my friends, my uncles, my aunts, my cousins, my one nephew, the postman, the dog-walker, Old Farmer Billiam from across town, Hezekiah the Bog Mower, Norman the Sidewalk-sitter, and finally the myriad mountainy men and women I came across that very murderous day.
After reliving the worst parts of the worst two weeks of my life in slow motion, I finally awoke and found that it still only 10:40 PM. There would be no more rest that night as I reflected on what I had just seen.
*You know how dreams usually disappear from your mind mind as soon as you wake up? This one wasn’t like that at all. I just don’t like thinking about it.
**This is paper.