Ink Blots

In the foreground of a dream, you stood before me, confessing your singular misstep. Behind you, were two images. As only my subconscious mind could decipher, then conveyed to me. Only the words lingered. They toppled down from your careless mouth, falling towards the ground beneath your unsteady gait, as you paced to and fro; much like a cornered animal. For months I revisited that dream. Still, I found no answer to the question I asked of you. You claimed to have committed the act only one time. All my good senses tell me your heroes lived on death row Mother’s are to blame for the role you played in the demise of so many. Ink Blots was the foreground of this dream. Escaping me so obviously. So now I must wait as they build a case.