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So I'm an English major, and I have really terrible dreams where I die a gruesome, horrific death on a fairly regular basis. They don't bother me much any more. This one I had last night does, and I really want to hear some interpretations of it. It was too fucking real, and I didn't die. I had my journal in my hands and was writing as soon as I had fine motor control back after snapping awake.

"Weird and faceless creatures, like deer without any features at all on their heads. Some of their heads are caved in, and make burbling, painful noises. Some have wounds deeply enough to free their throats enough to scream. Some are mating frantically on a rocky, volcanic crag, the sky is torn by fire. Mating frantically, in pain, unable to stop, in terrible pain, and terrified. Others stand in their pairs, exhausted but forever moving, jolting as though stung by invisible wasps.

Bewitched by a pale girl in the distance. Red hair. Strange blue dress. Poweful. Beautiful. The creatures fear her, and whatever afflicts them to mate and move so painfully finds its source in her.

A skeletal goat, torn open, rotting, mostly bones, the size of a god, towers over the whole scene, looking through eyeless sockets upon work it claims as its own. It stood statue-still, and then suddenly shudders, and walks onwards. The ground shakes with its passing, partly in hatred, partly in fear. It looks at me, and turns as if to appoach."

And then I noped the fuck out of the idea of sleep so hard that I haven't even napped after that waking me up at three AM after having dozed off working on my latest writing project for one of my many jobs at one AM.

I'd really like to know what the fuck that was, and I'm not sure who else to ask given my absence on most social media.

Picture unrelated but suitable.