Last night I had one of the most disturbing dreams I've ever had.

There's really not much to the dream, so this will be short. The only way to have made it longer would have been to go into gruesome details, but I'll spare you and trust you will have enjoyed my brevity much more.

Basically, I was eating my son, my little cuddly loveable three-month-old son. Bite by bite.

But, you see, that was OK, because his soul had been transferred to a new body. I guess in the dream I thought the best way to dispose of the old one was to chow down.

Given that, this dream would not have been so disturbing had the old body not been still alive. Even though it was soulless, the old body did not like being eaten nonetheless.

Man, my dreams are fucked up sometimes.

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