I wake up from a strange dream. There’s a mattress covered in blood, and I check my own bed to make sure I wasn’t murdered in my sleep. In the dream, an old woman was stabbed. For three nights she had hallucinations, black ermines wrapped around her throat, clawing her skin. I was the only one who could see them; everyone else thought she was crazy. Now in my apartment I see shadows in the corners of the room, up near where the wall meets the ceiling, crawling creatures looking for something warm to get ahold of.
S and I meet for drinks in a bar with low lighting and good martinis. We share a cheese plate and fries. I tell him about the dream.
That sounds like a horror movie, he says.
And I’ve left out all the goriest bits. What I see whenever I close my eyes.
photographs taken in the Highlands of Scotland