ABSTRACT
I dream about the people I killed. Those who I saw face to face. I can see them. When I see them, I see them all sitting round a table. But we're not talking to each other. Nothing happens. They don't talk to me. The only thing is that they're wearing white gowns and white hats and white gloves. I don't see their bodies at all. I can't see their faces even. But I know it's them. There are forty-three of them. They don't even talk to each other. But I know it's them. Forty-three of them. All the people I killed.
