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.

I was running down a dirt road in the countryside, visiting my old homes. It was time to say goodbye. The grass that was growing on the roof had long dried up, coated with a layer of dirt and dust. This house was the only one I could visit, while the others received improper farewells.

I was in some kind of virtual reality simulation and running down a road at high speeds. Apparently it was compiled from a series of 3D panoramic YouTube videos and were open to user input. However, since the expected trajectory was down the hill, there were boundaries to the space. The “camera” would move downwards at a constant rate so if you strayed too far, you hit an invisible wall. Every leap sent me flying up and over the streetlights.

I was on an airplane of some sort. And then I was falling for 11 floors in all directions.

I was walking through the blue terminal when someone leading a group of students approached me from the opposite direction. Apparently they were a game development team and they had just finished their newest release of a mobile game. They wanted me to take a group picture for them. I was holding a blue plastic basket at the time and carried it back upstairs, assuming that was their intended trajectory. It wasn’t; they just stood in place and stared at me from below.

All of a sudden my lower lip went numb. My jaw was stuck as the bottom half of my face became cold and tingly. After a few moments of hesitance, I walked up to someone to ask for help. However before any emergency services could arrive we had to fill out a form that was online, stating our degree of emergency. The person helping me filled out my first name as “Test of Clark” and my surname as my full legal name with near illegible handwriting.

I sitting back in a Japanese class. It was a level three class, the one that I had skipped a year ago. Except everyone was holding syntax trees for the language which I never recalled doing.

I had just gotten a new desktop computer except it was in fact a very old model. It was so old that I was gaming on a 10’’ CRT monitor.