I had a dream of violence last night.

It was in a place where people weren’t safe even in their own homes. Maybe it was the future; it certainly wasn’t the past.

Men roamed, taking what the wanted, selling what they stole–things, people–to any who would buy.

I also dreamed of a sharp knife, vicious and thin, and long enough to go all the way through.

I learned a lesson last night in my dream. I learned that if I am ever in a situation where I have to defend myself in hand-to-hand combat, I’m dead.