(Transcribed from notes written down directly after waking up)
17/09/14, 04:34 am (Beijing time)
I'm facing a wall a white wall curved slightly. Behind me, a snowy, night landscape. I talk with a friend, I think it's Jonathan.
I go out, past a door. Patrick Stewart is in a swing, a white sucker for toddlers in his mouth. I salute him. I walk past him into the dark, past a street, to another white, curved wall with a counter sticking out. Patrick Stewart is sitting on a stool.
He is drinking coffee. He tells me that the lady down the street makes the most delicious jelly but I know he means pancakes.He says that he believes is not her half of the trailer that they stole, but her neighbor's and they moved all her stuff in his trailer while she was sleeping and that's why she's confused.
Patrick Stewart fades.
I go to bed, outside in the street I just passed. We're in a white trailer park.
As for a reward, the ghost of Patrick Stewart wants to show me something neat. Some lights flicker faintly. My right arm levitates.
Then something happens. Something dark. I can't move everything darkens. I try to laugh but I stay silent. I try to raise my arms but I can't. I try to say something, nothing comes out. I want to scream, I feel pushed down. I push my arms up, hard, try to scream, until finally I break free and out of the dream.
I wake myself up sitting up in my bed in the dark.
There are constant chills on my back and legs as I write this.