I was walking up a long windy hall of stairs with white walls and neon lights. The words of advice from the previous classes were engraved between each step. One of them was a quote about some theory on the current state of affairs between politicians and economists.

I was in the middle of a shopping mall and trying to climb out of some kind of cage-like construction made out of metal bars. Just when I was about to step out, a small boy obstructed my path. He seemed very determined to keep me inside. Instead over climbing over or to the side, I went below and out and he was unable to catch me. People were trying to tickle me as I squeezed out of the opening.

I was watching a movie with a friend and he seemed to know the plot while I didn’t. An old man was walking by a bench in park on a foggy morning and a velociraptor popped out from the side. He seemed unfazed and kept on walking.

We were in some kind of museum and there was a display of realistic sculptures of Pokemon. One of them was a toad with six legs and none of us were able to deduce what it was.

The two balls of fur that were crammed into the casing for an eraser were in reality a blind albino guinea pig and its offspring. When it unfurled itself, the parent asked if it could finally get a name. The water bottle would move on its own in the same direction as long as I never lifted it from the table. The man sitting on the couch got angry over the guinea pigs’ new freedom for their existence “ruined the architecture of [his] poem”. Then the larger one ate some of his cabbage from a plastic box.

Morning was settling in and so I got up to brush my teeth. I felt a sharp pain in my left molars so I stepped in front of the mirror. I was informed that it was apparently an early onset of “brooming”, a kind of orange growth that sprouts on teeth.

We were sitting in a large outdoor amphitheater in daylight. People were leaving and going upstairs into an indoor theater. I followed them and sat down in a seat in a dark room scattered with chairs and CRT televisions. We were here to watch a documentary with seventh graders. There must have been at least 200 of us in total in the room. The chairs were arranged in clusters and faced towards the closest screen.

My family and I had quickly walked through the airport terminal and straight into immigration. I had already gone through security when they asked for my boarding pass. I panicked, for all I could find was the e-ticket which most likely meant that I never got one printed out at the check-in counter. My dad was confused, after all he had his boarding pass at hand.

I was standing in line with a friend of mine for the premiere showing of a movie that she had written and helped produce. It was titled “Terminal Velocity” and she got her inspiration after a series of conversations with her mother about death and suicide. The critics in the papers seemed to be very receptive and gave very positive reviews. It turns out my friend’s mother was also one of the critics and a second friend that was with us really liked quoting the opening lines of her review. It had to do with the symbolism of the sunset at “the fifth hour” which served as a climax of sorts for the film.

We were driving on the opposite side of the road and there was an incoming car. The car in front of us slowly turned off from the road and stopped. It reversed into some bushes.