My Least Favourite Killer (July 8th, 2007)

I had three dreams, individual dreams, and I remembered them in between, but now I can only remember the middle one.
There were two women that had been killed. I don't believe I ever saw them, though. But I was in the room where it had happened. It was a sort of office/studio. Because the boyfriends of the two women were both artists. There was a huge desk in the room, that they sat by. And they were drawing/painting pictures of their dead women, literally drawing their dead women. Naked and oh so bloody. And you may say that "oh my god, how sick, are they mental or something", but it seems it was more like a therapy for them, to get over the loss. And we knew who had killed them too. It had been an old man. And I was sitting in a sort of... Like in a diner, where you have a table and benches on either side, in leather with a gross red/orange/brown colour. Like that. I was sitting closest to the wall. And I see this old man coming towards me, and I recognize him immediately as the murderer. And he sits down next to me. And up close I see he's not old after all, he's probably in his 30s/40s. His hair is white though, and his clothes (mostly brown ones I think) and cap make him look older. Apart from that he's quite average looking, well kept. And he leanes towards me, smiling, and says as if in confidence that "no one would believe this of an old man". And that's when I freak out, bloody sure he's going to kill me, and believe me, you don't want to be butchered by this particular guy. Like my least favourite killer.
And I remember thinking "I don't wanna play anymore", and I get my ass out of the dream, I pull myself out of it and make myself wake up. Sometimes I can do that, and I'm glad this was one of those times.