Last night's dream started out smashingly: I fulfilled my life-long goal of studying at Oxford University. I had some sort of fellowship or apprenticeship because I was doing some teaching too. Then the faculty of my department went on a beach trip. The beach was very close to the college, and the water was fairly warm. (None of that is accurate.) Anyway, I was splashing around in the ocean with two of my friends (a man and a woman) from the college when we heard a lot of yelling. Two of the men in the water had started to drown, presumably because they were swimming drunk. My friends and I swam to them and pulled them to shore. It was too late for one of the drowned men—he was already dead. The other one was still barely alive, so my guyfriend picked him up, and we all hurried to the closest building, which was a dorm or something for the college. (In real life, we would have performed CPR and said, "You, call 999!", but it was a dream.)
The door of the building was locked, so my female friend and I knocked while our guyfriend said his burden was getting heavier. Finally the door opened a crack, but the woman inside said she knew I'd killed both of the men. She was not letting me in to kill her too. "But this one's still alive!" I pled, but she didn't believe me. Then we flashed forward a bit, and the police were investigating me for murdering both of the men because the one had died after we couldn't take him inside. They thought I'd poisoned the men because I had a low-class accent—I said sick instead of ill or something. Something else happened, but I can't remember because I forgot it when I woke up.
No comments:
Post a Comment