The dream was back. Elena hesitated to call it a recurring dream because it went away six years ago. She thought she had rid herself of that nightly annoyance, but when she woke up, it was on her mind.
She touched her face and neck and found it moist and tacky. Night sweats. Shit. That usually came with the dream. She would NOT give it the satisfaction of calling it a nightmare. She hated this. And really, it was so stupid. She would find herself licking icing off a butcher knife, the cupcakes there on the table ready to be frosted. Sometimes her tongue would get too close to the blade and she’d slice it. She could feel that sting, burn, and the taste of blood mixed with the icing.
Why did blood taste like pennies? Back to reality. She’d have to tell her therapist that the dream was back. She really wanted to know why and what this was about.
Yawn. She put one foot on the floor, searching for her house flip-flops. The ones she wore inside. The ones the dog had chewed on. Finding it, she slipped one on, then then the other, and stood up. Her morning path to the bathroom led her to a startling discovery. The knife. Her butcher knife was on the counter next to the sink. And in the sink, blood. A lot of blood. She looked around, searching for the source of the blood. She searched herself. She touched her lips. No cupcake frosting. Nothing.
The bedroom. She turned back to check and saw it. The bedsheets.