(journal entry 02)
takes place night after this epic shopping trip with George Kirk
Had a dream. Strange dream. I was walking around with grandpa, holding his rifle, walking quiet like we used to when we went hunting. He put his hand on my shoulder, and pointed to a buck standing about a hundred yards away from me. I walked closer to it, but never seemed to get any closer.
Grandpa told me to use the scope, only at first the rifle didn't have one. I looked through it, and saw my father standing there, staring at me.
Shoot him, Grandpa said. I told him I didn't want to, but he was gone now and it was Joanna. Shoot him, she said in that little voice of hers.
Don't have to go too far into Freud to figure that one out.
Fucking George...