What I think is so strange is that the violence is no longer startling to me and also what is so distinct and unsettling is the visceral quality of blood in my mouth - heat, texture, flavour, etc. Ew. Also, the recognition that I was turning cold. I wonder what I am dying of, subconciously. What aspect of myself is dying? What aspect of me keeps trying to kill me? Weird.

Dreams fascinate me.