Good morning, everybody.
I was in some room like a side room or a storage room in a large building like a high school or a college. But the side room was also filled with desks, like it was a classroom itself. I sat at one of the desks.
An older woman, like Mary Carrillo in Entre Tinieblas, stood behind me, looking over my shoulder. I was writing in a notebook. I was apparently writing gossip about movie stars. But it was also like I was writing gossip about the woman's family, friends, or business associates.
This was apparently my job, and now my work day was over. I stood up out of my desk. The older woman, who was probably my boss, told me what elements of gossip I was missing about people. I would need to fill this gossip into the stuff I was writing.
As I stood out of my desk, a young man, maybe Southeast Asian, with dark skin and short hair, and wearing a blue, button-up shirt and tie, walked into the room. He prepared to sit down in the desk in front of my desk. This man was a financial researcher. He now worked either for one of my old bosses or somebody like one of my old bosses.
The man's boss came into the room now. He was really lighting into the young man, who may now have been sitting, about how terrible some of his recent work had been, and how he needed to improve so much. I came to understand that the quality of my old work had been much higher than the quality of this man's work.
The woman was gone, but I had another boss, probably like one of my old bosses. This boss of mine may have told me about how good my work was. He probably then told me some things I'd need to do when I came in to work the next day. I was leaving for the night on very good terms with my boss. This probably made the other worker jealous.
I walked out of the building, which was now a lot like a college building. It was night, but there were a lot of people walking into or around the building. The building had a glass wall where the doors were. But the glass was was nestled in between two semicircular, sweeping brick structures. Before the entrance to the building was a wide, concrete plaza-like area. Beyond that was a parking lot which mostly lay in darkness.
There were a few black women walking in toward the building. Some of them were walking alongside their bicycles. There may also have been a few black women walking out from the building. I may have been worried that they were walking faster than me and that I needed to speed up.
I got out to a sidewalk that ran alongside a road connecting the parking lot to the outside road. It was pretty dark here. I knew I had to catch a bus. The bus seemed pretty far away. I had to walk down this road to the main road. I had to turn right onto the main road and head up some hill that ran along the grounds of this school. I then had to turn right and walk some distance along a back road to get to the bus stop.
But it was already almost time for the bus to arrive. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to catch the bus at all. But I thought there was a small chance that if I ran I could catch the bus. So at first I began walking really fast, and then I began running.
But as I was running I heard a voice tell me that I shouldn't put too much effort into my running. I was now in some room with an old, tall, thin man in a white lab coat. The man was telling me about the effects on the bodies of people who had overexerted themselves in really hot weather (although I don't remember the weather having been hot).
The man may have shown me photos or films of, or just vividly told me about, one person in particular. This person overexerted himself in hot weather. He had something like a heart attack -- his heart just locked, froze up. But then the rest of his body malfunctioned. His body heat kept rising and rising, until finally his insides just began melting.
I may have asked the man not to tell me anymore about this man, or even about this disease. I may have tried to walk to another room, just to get away from the man's gruesome stories. This room was like a classroom. But it didn't have any school desks in it, and it was divided in certain places by curtains like curtains dividing bed spaces from each other in a hospital room.
The man sat right outside or on the threshold of one of these curtained areas, in a pale, wooden chair. Just inside the curtained area was a big desk like a teacher's desk. A sexy nurse sat at the desk, working away at a report or some kind of paperwork.
The man was continuing to tell me about the burning-up disease. He told me that as the burning-up disease progressed, actual layers of skin would peel away from a person's body, just curling backward. He may have said that this began at the extremities of the body.
To prove this to me, the man was holding a white, plastic trash bag with a man's hand in it. I couldn't see the man's hand, but I knew that there were sections of the hand where the skin was peeling backwards. But instead of the skin peeling backward and revealing red or pink flesh beneath, it just revealed more and more whitish, rubbery skin.
I was flying through the air with my brother. I don't know what kind of aircraft we were in, or whether we were in an aircraft at all. I was definitely at least partly exposed to the air.
My brother was in control of the flight, and he was flying really erratically. This may partly have been because he was fighting or maneuvering around something like a dragon. But he was also flying really crazy just because he wanted to shake me up, possibly even to get me thrown out of the air altogether.
I don't know whether my brother knew this, but I was holding onto a notebook. The notebook had important information in it, and I couldn't let go of it. It was hard enough to stay in the air with my brother's flying. But it was even harder to hold on to the notebook.
Now I was back on the ground. I'm not sure about my brother. I was moving through a street. I was moving along one of the lanes in the street, as if I were in a car. But I'm not sure I actually was in a car. I felt like I was out in the open air, floating maybe a meter above the ground, standing straight up, and moving along the road at about the speed of the car. Others on the road may have been doing the same thing, including a really cute, well-dressed, Asian girl.
I still had the notebook in my arms, even though I felt like I had lost something while I'd been up in the air. I was disappointed that I'd lost whatever I'd lost. But I thought I could at least boast to my brother, if it was ever brought up, that I hadn't lost the notebook.
I turned left down some road. I was then in a bedroom. The bedroom seemed big and nice, maybe with thick, wood walls. But it was all cluttered with stuff like blankets. I was probably sitting on the floor, at something like a low desk, surrounded by all kinds of blankets. I may have been trying to do some kind of work, either in a notebook or on a computer.
But now my mom opened the door to my room. I think that when my mom opened the door, I could see into the halllway. I think it was then that I realized I was in some really big mansion.
My mom told me that my brother wanted to talk to me. He had some really big scheme for making a lot of money. And he wanted me to be in on it. The scheme also involved one of his friends. So he wanted me to meet his friend as well.
But I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. I already knew that I simply wouldn't be a part of any scheme my brother was putting together. But I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to avoid meeting my brother's friend. I had a bad feeling, though, that if I met my brother's friend, that would bring a whole bunch of trouble into my life.
So I told my mom no, that I didn't want to see my brother. I may have told her that I was still mad at him for flying so crazy and almost making me lose my notebook.
But now I could see my brother beyond the doorway, coming up a thick, wooden staircase at the end of the hallway. Instead of talking to my mother, I was now walking out of the doorway and speaking directly to my brother.
I was so angry that I must have been scaring my brother. Instead of walking up the stairwell, he was now walking down it, backwards. He was still calling up to me, a really wild look in his eyes, talking about his scheme, and talking about this friend of his he wanted me to meet.
But finally I must have said something really insulting or upsetting to my brother. He finally stopped talking. But he seemed really sad, depressed. I felt bad for having told him whatever I'd told him.
We were now sitting down in something like a living room. My brother sat in a big, cushiony chair. I sat down on the floor. I may have been writing in a notebook, which may have rested on something like a stool. All around me and my brother was clutter, mostly stuff like bedding. At some point I may have apologized to my brother for whatever bad thing I'd said to him.
Possibly something about my needing to put together gossip about a Japanese pop group, maybe the group AKB 48. I saw a group of Japanese girls in plaid mini-skirts, yellow sweaters, and white button-up shirts walking down the street.
I may have felt like I had two groups of information -- which I may have visualized as two ends of a black and white photograph. But I may have felt like I needed one last piece of information, which would have been like the center of the photograph, except that it would have been in color, and it would have been real and living, not photographic at all.