Last night I dreamt I was in a house that wasn’t my house. It was a David Lynch style house, where night seemed to live in the shadows, and the lights were odd and sharp when they were on. I dreamt I came downstairs to see my son sobbing, and he kept saying that the rabbit was dead, that he was dead.
So I went to the rabbit’s cage, and there were all these cats in the cage. They were all the cats I’ve known and raised that had died through the years, from old age or other reasons. Sitting there, staring at me. They’d killed the rabbit. I woke up.