Last night I had this dream.
(…)
A group of cops, about two dozens of them, were after me.
They were actors.
They were trying to mock me. I decided to outsmart them all on a whole.
Then there was this motorbike rider.
He (I took for granted he was a guy), was wearing a helmet.
When I wanted to realize, I was back on his bike, no helmet on.
There was a fragment of glass within my throat.
It was real as hell. My one and only purpose was to either push it out or to swallow it.
I was choking.
I woke up choking.
For a solid 3 minutes.
I like to interpret my dreams.
First, I thought of a form of divine justice on going too far (or trying to).
But then, I remembered something I had written beforehand.
We cannot write out of ourselves, just like we cannot dream out of ourselves.
The Theist Manifesto.
Then again, that rider was, in part, a part, of myself.
This is. I am able to punish. I am capable of murder.
The only reckless thing here is going to be tapping on “Publish”.
