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”.