my fear of knives rears its ugly head.

i’m in some building where a party is going on. end up in a room with a buncha little kids. i don’t know these people. lot of knives all over the place, and kids are wielding them. i get stabbed in the leg with a sharp knife and i think that it is on purpose. i start hoarding knives so that i’m the only one who has them. the kid’s mom starts to think i am a little insane but understands, i think. she takes some knives from me — which i am hesitant about — but allows me to keep two or so. i leave the room eventually, fearful of not only the child that stabbed me but of all children who can potentially wield knives.

on the way out, people are everywhere. like i said, it was a party, and the whole building is reserved for it. i walk outside briefly and these two guys are walking and talking to each other about something. finally one of them leaves and the other one comes up to me and starts walking and talking with me. not sure what we talk about. nothing significant, i don’t think. but we sit down in some room where a meeting or presentation is going on. i’m not really listening. we end up holding hands and i tell him i got stabbed in the leg. in fact, the fact that i got stabbed in the leg was one of the first things i said, which is kind of weird (and not that it even hurt anymore or anything).

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