I am a serial killer — a white man with brown hair and brown eyes and khaki shorts (one side of my pant legs drops lower to my thighs). I stalk people through Durex hookup hashtags online. Used to be women too but now mostly just men. I am ruthless, efficient. I look like Dexter but Dexter doesn’t exist in this world.
There is loud thumping music. Techno. I’m on a giant ship. I wonder where work has taken me now. I’m in a kill room, full of evidence. I open the blackout curtains and bright light streams in. A float boat is going by my window, in a giant pool on the boat — someone dressed in black leather s&m clothes riding it on water. I’m on a boat and there’s a party and the investigative party are all VIPs. Of course I’m going to murder some ppl here. I’ve murdered some of my past team members, brutally. Harvested them. There are two members hot on my tracks, two guys. One is a white guy, brown office haircut, blue striped suit clothes. Tall. Grimace-smiles. Camera is always looking at him from worms eye view. I’m walking on the boat with a colleague whom I consider attacking later, if convenient.
I am on a date with a girl and she brings me to “the most punk” place which she wants me to appreciate. It’s a place that almost looks Tuscan. Warm sunlight and large columns. We park and enter. It’s a nursery and I’m holding a small plastic basket. I put some plants shaped like cucumbers in the basket. They look like cotton and feel like clouds when I squeeze them.
I also dream for hours I have to post something on Instagram for work.