Written on 09 Dec 2019, Monday:
It’s night time and I was at some sort of cult-house-5 storey building. Somehow I knew my mission was to infiltrate the building and kill as many people in it as possible. My plan was to get to the top, start at the top floor and make my way down. So I parkour my way to the top–it was like a game, or a concourse, some sort of adventure/action video game. I jump and pull myself up through a 5-storey complex, but I do it effortlessly without losing energy or being out of breath. At the top balcony I await hidden. I see someone inside pacing, all covered in black, like a ninja, but with loose feminine clothing. The person hears something outside, me I guess, and come out to the balcony. When she’s outside, I kick her several times till she’s off the balcony, she didn’t know what hit her. The second person that came out was a harder to defeat. She was also wearing all black like a ninja, and, because she was beating me, I had to escape from her by diving into a sort of chute. At the ground floor, a welcome ceremony was happening for the leader of the cult. . . I’m not clear on the end of this scene, if they caught me or if I escaped. . .
The second scene took place in the daytime and I find myself on some platform or stage. I’m introduced to “T” and there’s five of them. I wondered why they all had the same name; I knew or was aware they’re all clones and were, I guess, all identical except for slight differences, like one was slightly less thinner than the others, but still wondered why they all introduced themselves as “T” and didn’t give variations to the name. They’re identical, but wearing different clothes.
In the next scene I’m sitting at a table having breakfast with a group of people, all women, I think. One woman at the head or near the head of the table was holding some sort of seed and rubbing or sliding it back and forth on her placemat. I understood she was grinding buckwheat or something, and I start to do the same on my placemat where I accumulate white buckwheat powder. . .
dream chronicles 