I thought I was sleeping so I grabbed a rifle from a
man standing next to a horse and put it against my throat. The man
asked if I was crazy and I said no that I was just having a bad dream.
He nodded. I pulled the trigger and my neck tore open. Flowers bloomed
from the blood inside my throat. The man made a bouquet and gave it to
his wife who sat on the horse. When my body drained of blood I woke up
on the hotel bed. I left the room and walked through the streets. I
noticed Eric talking to a woman holding a parasol. I asked the woman if
I could talk to Eric in private and she said sure and floated up into
the clouds. I asked Eric if he thought that was odd and he said it
wasn’t. I asked Eric if I was having a nightmare and he said I wasn’t,
that if he shot me right now I would die. I told him that to get out of
nightmares I have to shoot myself and he said that he already knew
that. He said everyone had to do that. Then he excused himself, put a
pistol in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. His body crumpled at my
feet. Smoke rose from the back of his head. A fox ran up and dragged
the body away. A few minutes later Eric walked out of a barber shop
with a clean shave and saloon slicked hair. “Sorry about that,” he
said. “What were we talking about?” I looked around the town. I saw a
woman slit her own throat then appear on a roof top with a parasol. An
older man shot himself in the mouth and appeared a minute later on the
street selling antique glass wear. Eric curled himself up in a little
ball on the dirt and fell asleep. A gun shot went off inside him and he
popped back up. A woman fell from the sky and landed a few feet from
us, her neck twisted, her chin resting just behind her shoulder, her
parasol wet and draped over her face.
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