Last night I dreamt - in part - that there was a woman in the apartment. She had a gun. I had a gun. I knew her, but there was something wrong between us. Some kind of uneasy situation. I didn’t want it to get messy, but I also knew I may not have an option. I went into the room where she was. I can’t recall why, but I started shooting at her. A bullet struck her head. She was killed. I had an odd option to allow time to be reversed and let the situation play itself over again. I did. I still shot at her. This time, she shot back. I swore, ducked, then popped back in to shoot her again. I killed her, but she also turned the gun on herself and killed herself. If that makes sense. I emptied all of my bullets into her, save one. I popped open the cylinder (it was a revolver) to examine the spent rounds. The unused round made me sad.
