In the dimly lit room of a grand hotel, I sat across from my old friend, a mobster out of an old TV show, whose presence was both familiar and unsettling. The air was thick with tension as we discussed our past, our friendship, and the frozen cash we had acquired. The mobster, with a smirk, reminded me, “You’d have no one if it weren’t for me.”
As we spoke, a cat-like creature darted around, creating illusions of itself, adding to the surreal atmosphere. I looked out the window at the unreal landscape and said, “You’re already dead. This is just a leftover essence of you.” His face twisted in fear and confusion.
Suddenly, I found myself running naked through a suburban neighborhood. I saw my mother and sister, but a train blocked my path. I turned back, only to encounter another train. Desperate, I hid in a stranger’s lawn, but a woman spotted me, and her husband came out, leading to a struggle.
The scene shifted to the Matara Bodhi temple, where people noticed something different about me and demanded an explanation. I was playing a video game that seemed crucial to our reality. Na********* (girl i knew), a familiar figure, offered to explain. I stood up and mocked the crowd, “It’s funny how people have time for this when they should be going about their business.” That girl i knew, ascended to an elevated platform and spoke of my childhood, claiming I had tasted milk from a golden spoon and was delusional.
I found myself back in the game, facing the villain responsible for this twisted reality. I convinced others that kicking the villain’s head off was the solution, but the cycle repeated.
Finally, I stood at the origin of this reality, facing the villain once more. I defeated him, but it didn’t work. The truth dawned on me: I was part of the game too. Both the villain and I wanted this to happen. A doctor-like figure from what appeared to be the real world, came taking me away with a sense of finality. “This is over now,” the doctor said, as the illusion of reality shattered around me.
Then I woke up... I think.