Horse
I dreamt that I was a horse.
I, being a horse, was um, galloping among the green hills. They were a replica of the hills in New Zealand, except smaller.
The sun was dropping and my shadow cluttered around my feet, and several people were soon pouring in.
There were a few scattered trees were rooted to the bare ground. Someone was with me, I can’t remember who. I think it was Colin. He poked me and ran off after bubbling excitedly that he was going to snap some pictures of a bird which was supposedly hiding in the trees, and told me to stay behind the hill.
I, being a horse, didn’t obey. I wandered off to see what all the fuss was about, everyone was mumbling and yelling with so much excitement. Colin was hiding behind another hill, and he started yelling something at me with his camera waving wildly in the air. Simultaneously, gunfire was heard.
Something warm and sticky trickled down my nose snout (?)
Someone had shot my face, and slowly, 2 of my legs curled. I transformed into a human with a bullet in my face.
Suddenly, I was at home in the living room. My sister and father were slouching about, oblivious to my state.
I screamed, “I’m dying, and none of you gives a fuck?!” and proceeded to run into my room and cry in bed.
My father came in later, and comforted me, saying that he’ll take me to the vet on Sunday, to see whether the vetenarian could somehow extend my life.
I sniffled. There was this awful pang, I knew that I was going to die.
He drove me to an old warehouse. Piles and piles of old mattresses were slumped everywhere, the area reeking of urine.
A man in a white coat and wrinkles cracking into his skin emerged from the house, bent down and peered over his spectacles. He examined my bleeding wound.
After a few seconds, he heaved a sigh, “I’m sorry,” and left.