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wish this prostitute was my spouse so I didn't have to pay her for sex. After we're done, she gets up
and starts to put on her clothes and I ask her where she's going.

She tells me she has other customers to tend to. I tell her that I'll pay her double what I owe her if
she just stays to keep me company. If she left me, my loneliness gene would turn on and I would be
prone to the suicide disease.

She agrees to stay and I tell her to lay down next to me. We lay there silently for about ten minutes,
and then I get up to go use the bathroom. In the toilet I see a phone floating there. On my way back
to her I see that she has fallen asleep, so I go to my coat and I take out this syringe. I have no idea
what this liquid is but I inject it into her upper left leg. After some time passes, I feel for a pulse on
her neck and there is none. No signs of life.

I look over her naked body, this work of art. The body part I give the most attention to is her left
foot. I reach out to touch it, it's warm. I slide my hand across it. I do it again and again until it
becomes cold, and then I take out a less than normal-sized axe from under the bed and I cleanly
chop it off. The blood is minimal.

I go to place the foot in my freezer but before I could do so I hear a knocking at my door. I pause
for a moment, and then the knocking becomes louder and the man begins to yell, but I can't
understand what he's saying. All I can really think about is how I have a more than visible woman
laying in my bed who is lifeless and is missing a body part.

I look back into the room from the kitchen, and I see her. This woman laying on my bed, bleeding
from her ankle. The knocking and shouting get even louder and now I can hear my heart beating.
And then I wake up.

Of course this dream reminds me of the night Lynne fell asleep at my apartment and I laid her to
rest. It reminds me about how I touched her plastic foot. This dream almost makes me ashamed
because it makes me feel like I have this mutated or abnormal version of admiration for Lynne.
Dare I say love, because in my life I'm not sure if I've ever loved anything.

The only real conclusion I could come to for the meaning of this dream is that I am trying to
recreate Lynne by turning other women into her, maybe because I've never met a lady like herself.

Either that, or I'm subconsciously fixated on her fake foot, but now that I think about it, I'm not
sure how far her amputation went. It could be her foot, her whole lower leg or her entire leg. But
the only part of her leg that I've ever been able to touch was her foot. However I'm almost certain
that it is not her entire leg because her limp would be much more obvious if it were.

I'd also like to think that the man knocking and shouting at the door is my subconscious telling me
that this isn't right. That it's not normal, so please wake up. People have said that the other people
in our dreams are simply other versions of ourselves.

This dream also makes me wonder how difficult it is to get away with murder. Most of the time the
media makes it seem like c omitting a murder and actually getting away with it is almost