I dream a lot these hazy days but can hardly recall all the pictures and appearing people, situations and moods.
Tonight I was chased by a woman from a religious cult. She shot me in an open street. I knew I was already dead but still conscious. I saw everything happening around but hoped she wouldn’t recoginze.
Though I was already dead I wanted to spread signs that could lead to my murderer later. I ripped some magazines apart and threw the pasges in all directions. I also had a booklet from the woman’s organization and ripped it in pieces, hiding one part of it in my pants.
I felt no pain but that it was a pity I was dead. ☆