I wrote a story instead.🙃
The knife came out, almost as if on its own, like a horrific memory of something he did in his past. Suddenly aware it was there in his hand, gleaming silvery sharp and lethal. He tried to fold it, put it back in his pocket. He didn’t want to ever hold it again. He didn’t even want it in his pocket but no matter where he tried to put it, it found it’s way back into his pocket. He tried to joke it off saying, well at least it’s folded shut when it lands in there, but he was actually terrified.
The paranormal psychiatrist just kept a silent steady nonplussed gaze at her notes. It seemed she really wasn’t listening to him at all.
“This isn’t a dream, Dr. Nough, it is really happening. Look, can’t you see it?” Joe placed the knife close to the doctor’s arm and insisted she stop writing and look at it. Her nonchalance cued an odd feeling in him and he stepped closer. Now the knife was in control. It quickly sliced a long curve into the doctor’s neck. “See? I told you, it’s not a dream, it’s happening!”
An attendant grabbed Joe as he was calmly walking down the hospital corridor. “This isn’t my fault”, he said to the guard, “I told her it was happening.”