A real dream?

The forest is green, the birds are chirping. When I was younger I used to go hunting, hunting was fun an animal or two. The blood was running down on my shoe, the feeling of murder lingering on my hands. The knife was slicing through its smooth head, the skin was ripped from its poor limbs. The sound of its screech was music to my ears. Was I delusional or was this a dream? I think I just killed one of the real…