This is everywhere. No one is immune. We're all infected. Carriers. When I die? My boy knows it's his place to put me down before I get loose. I trust him to take care of things the way they should be handled. He's young, too young to be a man really, but he doesn't have a choice. None of us do.
I honestly hope no one else has to dream about the kind of horror I share with the few who come from my dreams. That world is best left to the dead rather than haunting the living.