I've realized something. In most of my dreams someone dies ... everyone around me dies; or someone intends to kill me ... or both ... which brings me to this entry; the first time I remember having ever actually died in a dream ... I will make this short, because I have a headache. It was set back when everyone was fearful of witchcraft to a fault. I was a young woman; blonde hair cut in a bob; she was not me, but I was her ... Apparently, I was under the influence of another woman's "spell", if it even was that. This woman worked for my family; she was stout, young; she had long curly brown hair and struck me as mean-spirited but almost comical. Under her influence I murdered someone; so coldly murdered them. I knew them, though, I cannot remember now who they were ... my parents found out about her ... there was an argument ... she was shoved, falling atop myself who fell onto a table ...and I just laid there as she was pulled away ... sent away ... and for that brief moment I felt so relieved that it was finally over; I felt so secure ... Now, this was all in third person view, as my dreams often are. Then I saw the hatchet, a heard metal meet flesh, bone, and wood repeatedly ... I saw blood ... and in my subconcious audience ... I was so shocked ... it had been my "father", in the dream, who had killed me ... he was a maybe in his forties, balding ... very solemn, but not sad in the least for what he was doing ... I don't remember seeing my "mother" much ... but I do remember my "sister" ... a lovely little blonde six year old; sitting quietly with her chin propped on her arms at a seperate table ...not old enough to understand what was happening ... as I was murdered ...executed ... you decide ...