Times Gone By

Dream Journal 04-05-16

It was one of those moments when everything just whirred by, faster than I could fully comprehend. Three men in black suits appeared at the door to my apartment, they recruited me into some top-secret paramilitary organisation whose name was an acronym that didn’t make sense. I was jobless, my wife and I could barely afford to stay in our apartment so when this opportunity came along, we decided to go all for it. Little did we know that they intended to jail me. Use me as bait. Lured out the prison boss. They called me a ‘vital asset’ and ‘an informant’ psht. I was more like dragon fodder.

I was sent into the catacombs of the prison, yes, typical medieval Eurpean catacombs that were part of a modern day, African prison. The weirdest part was that when I reched the bottom of those dank, rat infested halls, it opened up into a massive 70s bar and grill. Huge checkered walls reached up into the darkness where the light of the bright, neon green and yellow decorations could not reach. Thankfully, my dream ended there as I was blinded by the luminosity of the prison leader’s undergarment.


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