KAT
The Weight of Dreams
The nightmare unfolds like prophecy written in blessing-fire and arterial spray, Dave's thirtieth birthday painted in shades of divine consumption that make my sleeping mind scream warnings I can't voice.
He stands in our unfinished house—January fifteenth, two and a half months from now—golden light erupting through his skin like sweat turned molten. His bones crack in sequence, femur first with a sound like green wood splitting, then spine popping like firecrackers, ribs exploding outward to accommodate the Prime's emergence. But the growth doesn't stop at nine feet.
Ten feet. Eleven. His skull elongates, jaw unhinging to accommodate teeth that belong in nightmares, human features dissolving into something that makes my dream-self vomit bile that burns my thr
