Thursday night, in which Shannon and her friends (fictional, faceless, exclusive to this dream) are serially killing people for sport. Leaving a bag full of mason jars full of blood in a taxi cab. Eben had killed himself in an abandoned neighborhood mansion; Shannon moves in with the intent to die, because if you live in a house that hosted somebody’s suicide, you will be rained upon by ghosts from all over the neighborhood and they will devour your soul. I go in with her and soon leave out of fear. Walking home, mid-day, I feel all these gusts, and watch tall, skinny, cloudy figures with vague black eyes begin coming down the street…first only one, but I hear others in the distance, now seeing three or four at a time, and I know there are many more coming from other directions as well. I walk past a small boy, maybe 12 years old, alone, I say “Don’t go in THAT house,” half knowing that he will. He knocks on Shannon’s door, after a few moments I hear his extended and shrill scream. I imagine she’s probably showing him one or part of one of her many victims, as she has a lot of corpses saved up in there.