"All right, Batwoman, what are you going to do next, meow?"
Dream of a Thousand Cats had no interest in human belongings. Even though the basement was piled with large boxes, probably full of clothes, pants, wigs, and the like, it had no urge whatsoever to jump in and rummage around.
It understood more than that. Christopher went to work at a construction site during the day, while his wife was the homemaker. They had seen earlier that she loved cleanliness, and everything in the house was exceptionally tidy. That was somewhat at odds with the man of the house being a construction worker.
It wasn't that people who hauled bricks and mixed cement at construction sites were necessarily unhygienic. The main thing was, after a full day of heavy labor, would he still have the energy to do housework when he got home? And when would he find time for his hobby of killing people?
So, it should have been fairly obvious who had packed up all these boxes.
But whether the man handled the killing while the woman disposed of the bodies, or whether the two of them held hands like they were cooking in the kitchen, whispering sweet nothings while killing and dismembering people together—that was unknown. At least, this Nightmare had not shown it.
But when it came to dreams, Dream of a Thousand Cats had plenty to say.
First, this was the only house in a clearing within the forest. That showed that, in Christopher's subconscious, this home carried great weight. He did not even remember, nor did he care about, the community where the house stood, the street it was on, or his neighbors.
Second, Christopher still retained control over this Nightmare. All the other nightmares were confined to the forest and could not