Long after the first awakening I fell into a tired spell of a fractured film at noon in the deepest sleep of the day just seems possible. The Dystopian and the fire of this film made her way into my dream and I made myself as a leader of my own little revolutionary movement because an evil man, it was the intimidating character from another movie - and I accidentally burned it alive . For this I was like the cast of another film, quite often naked. No one died. My dreams never die someone. At most of the time in which I look no more, in the aftermath of the sudden awakening if the story is spun in the next bent. Through my dream character has never been anyone to get dead. Chopped off heads go on. Shots fired not meet. The high case is absorbed gently. Fire does not burn.
I think people are considered in depth and shy. It's just the wake surface, the outermost rind of consciousness, at which whets the shallow life, sitting in the shower power of our wickedness.
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