Wellington Street

In which we take a stroll down a very strange lane.


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Hospital Update "Hunter of Monsters"

I woke up in the middle of the night. Another nightmare. I dreamed about the end of the world, where humans had been consumed by rot. They didn't know they were dead, and acted like one would expect. Collecting together. Hurting one another. They never knew that something was wrong even as the biting flies and other insects began to degrade their forms. One of them was walking around his hands, because he had lost his body from the waist down. No one batted an eye. They couldn't tell that there was something terribly wrong with them. Something they weren't willing to see. That they were monsters.

I woke up and had to distract myself for a while. I hate nightmares. Especially those really intense ones that linger. Where you have to keep your eyes open or else you will start the dream back up. Took nearly fifteen minutes for me to fall back asleep. Did some reading. Margaret didn't wake up thankfully. The pain killers have been working at night. She can sleep solidly again. I have had no word about my son Noah. No more incidents it seems. I must have been right. It was my presence that seemed to be setting him off.

My eyes burn, but I pushed through it and went to work. I sympathize with the previous author of this blog. A lack of sleep or a troubled sleep can really mess with you. Make you see things and become testy. People have stopped asking about Margaret. I don't mind. Just means they will talk to me about regular things. Everyday things. I could do with some normal after everything that has happened. With how I have been sleeping and with Margaret's condition...maybe I am having trouble telling what is a dream and what isn't.

I decided to get a pet. The doctors say that it may be a little bit before Margaret can go back to work and I knew she could use the company while I was out. So I went to the local shelter and got her a cat. He is a little older. Around four. But that is fine. I figured Margaret probably would have trouble taking care of a kitten.

His previous owner had called him Loyd. Seems as good of a name as any. I was told that he used to live out in the country so he was used to being outside. I have taken up the habit of letting him out for a little while every night. He is neutered and always comes back. I know you aren't supposed to let them outside since they kill birds. But it is winter. The birds are gone. And it means I don't have to change the litter box as often.

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