I had woken up by the side of a busy road without a clue of how I had gotten there. Apparently I was about to miss the departure of a trip for the Columbia River Gorge* but I still had to get back home before I could meet up with the other people. I was going to cross the road but I hesitated as I was unsure if I was supposed to pick up the rug that I was sleeping on along with me for I couldn’t tell if it was mine or not. I eventually decided to leave it and quickly ran across the street. When I got into the apartment building, I made too many right turns and ended up at the security desk instead of the elevator. Apparently they had just recently changed the placement of the elevator. “I’m still getting it wrong all the time” the security guard on duty assured me.

I was running around with a knife out fully believing that I was merely in a video game with zombies. The sluggish responses and the stat tracking on my weapons gave it away. However as it got darker, everything became more vivid and animated. Some people “gave up [their] patriotism for survival”, whatever that meant. We lost contact with each other until nighttime when we were all being thrown into a pile in front of a campfire. “You let us down!” someone shouted at me as I was dragged next to them.

I was attending a lecture about a book that a friend had written. However she wasn’t the one that was going to be talk about her own book. The book itself was a collection of modern art exploring the alternative scenarios concerning Helen’s departure from Sparta. It featured a green cover with a slightly tilted recursive pattern.

We were walking away from the bus and the group of people were feeling particularly smug for they had redirected the blame of something they did to some random bystander. There were people working in ditches around highly stacked mounds of dirt. We walked to a tea house and someone commented on my long strides - they said how it made us look like a part of a gang. I immediately resumed a regular posture.

Someone was talking about their International Relations class and how they were now on the topic of “legitimacy”. I asked them if that was about monarchies and such and they responded by raising up a map of the borders on the British Isles during the middle ages.

I was pushing a large plastic container up and down the road that wound around the mountain. Inside of this container were 3 more containers of increasingly smaller sizes fitted within the last. Inside of the smallest box was a bag of dirt as well as some spare lids. I was around the bus stop when my mouth started to feel incredibly dry. It only took a few seconds before my entire lower jaw had numbed. When I raised my hands to my mouth, I realized that it was filled with toilet paper. I could no longer breathe as I puled out an endless strand of toilet paper from my mouth. I was on the verge of passing out through suffocation.

I was reported for not using the right kind of fake blood on the set. It had gotten into the food that we were swiping around on the white tiled floor.

I was standing at the bottom of a dune in the middle of the night when I saw a couple hunting lions. The woman would act startled and run down while the man stayed in hiding until the lion followed. The man would later shift into a lion himself, chasing behind the beast. The two cats ran past me on the right while I averted their trajectory by going up and to the left. I asked the woman if their whole maneuver was planned beforehand due to how well it was executed. She told me how originally she was going to shout into the night sky about being able to see “spirits and the stars” until realizing that its meaning would be lost on the animal.

It was night time as we stood on the patio of my childhood home. A family was getting their picture taken while someone else was talking about the seasonal nature of the fruit trees. One tree bore large olives the size of watermelons. The branches were strained and fractured by the weight when a small child attempted to climb the tree to pluck one of the fruits off. The other fruit tree resembled a kind of flowery banana. Apparently the “french fries” wouldn’t be ripe until the summer when they turned into an orange hue.

I got a call from my parents asking if I was in Hong Kong. I repeated to them that the flight I got onto hours ago did not go to Hong Kong. Apparently someone posted an old photo of a lunch we had together on my Facebook wall and my parents were led to believe it happened recently.