I do notice that my dreams have been a bit more vivid recently - especially during these last two nights. When I wake up, I am a bit more hesitant to recognize, to accept, that everything that had happened was indeed a dream, and the context-switching necessary to immerse myself back into this more persistent (hence "more real") reality takes much longer. Say up to 2 or 3 minutes? A bit less, maybe, stumbling around my apartment, with goals from my dream still unachieved in the back of my head, desirous to perform actions and say things that matter and exist even less the more time transcurs.
Like last night, I woke up a little frantic, furiously thinking how to escape terrorist killers trying to get into the office where I was with another student, inside some kind of super fancy high school, magnificent, with domes, columns and sculptures present in every building, all of them painted in white, located somewhere in California.
As I have to finish up something before 11AM (and it is 8:14AM now), I will not go too much into details. But in summary, I remember the following:
I was in some kind of jungle, where dirt roads connected many small places (hmmm, like the Geogame?), in one of which my brother (Marcos) and one of his friends where busy looking at and talking about cars. Somehow the dream changed focus into me driving my car around, and its brakes beginning to fail badly, as in sometimes not responding at all (very probably induced by my small car collision incident yesterday (GMB6041)). As I drove around a city later on (which reminded me of the Panorama city area in San Cristobal), I almost collided into a few people crossing the street and some cars, which made me want to not drive after I reached a small house where some of my siblings were (I only clearly remember Marcos). This small house was, in my mind, located where Burger King in San Cristobal is.
Afterwards, since I didn't want to drive, I walked a few blocks around and got to this magnificent white high school, where I walked past by a few groups of students. First I saw a group of male students talking about which girls did they like in their classes, and their recent courting accomplishments with them. I walked some more, and I found a group of female students talking about the same thing. After they finished talking, for some reason I started talking to one of the girls, and we walked around the high school for a while. The place made me think of some kind of Greek classical school, where perfect students performed perfect work inside perfect classrooms and libraries, always striving to achieve perfection.
We walked around the place for a while, me admiring the marble staircases and wide columns, and my companion just walking with me just because. After sitting on some kind of weird big throne-like chair in which we posed in different weird manners, we went to his office (for some reason she had become a he by that time - or maybe I also met him along the way or something), and he began working on something that looked with research, with code and graphs and stuff. Then for some reason, armed terrorists began taking over the high school, and I heard one of them say "let's kill the boldest ones first, so then the others will offer no resistance!", and I knew they were talking about us. (I remember that one of the "bold" groups was France, and I knew I was part of it. Don't know why). So I immediately went ahead to try to close the heavy wooden office door (like the one in my actual office), and shut it down right over a terrorist's incoming pistol. I wasn't strong enough to push the office door shut against the terrorist's strength, so I asked the other guy in the office for help. He seemed a little reluctant to get away from his work, but then agreed, and we managed to shut the door. Then we were thinking about how to escape the terrorists, our window being high up in the building and with no other visible escape route, and that's when I woke up.
Now I gotta continue working... on my work. If terrorists come I'll be sure to get my priorities straight.
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