I found it beneath the little statue with the freshly turned soil. How had I not seen it before?
Looking down into the grave I saw my undead child and the rage within me burst yellow, blazingly bright and a howl of hate tore from my throat and shook the earth.
It was a rage of hate and smite. It was a rage that would destroy anything to blame with no conscience and all the malice to be painted with as much blood as possible, as much pain that could be crushed from wet bone.
Fuck I have vivid dreams.
You always did have a vivid mind and I suppose therefore vivid dreams – I suspect it makes up for the the non physical activity. Rather like people whose hearing is so much sharper if their sight is very weak. The one sense makes up for the other.