EPT+ Show Spoiler +
Do not take it too serious.
”People can go their whole lives without purpose; I want just you to win.”
My dream began with seven people running on a dirt road slowly taking the shape of how I would see myself in the future. What stood out at first was a female in green racing striped, blue jogging overall.
Her matching jacket was not zipped and it dangled freely in the air revealing a plain white shirt. It was wet with sweat undoubtedly from a very long jog.
As everyone gained composure and the world felt less hazy one would notice by their clothing and appearance that they all had things in common. They all stood out, the woman more so by virtue of being female. It is not often you see your femininity so clearly personified. My favourite kind of woman, the half geek that visits libraries and reads books yet the ponytail suggesting a wilder side tucked away to be unleashed once they meet the right kind of guy.
The next to come into my full view was a man in a black suit, not a single button left unbuttoned on his white shirt and a neat bowtie, his chiselled frame suggesting primarily power lifting and sporting some tribal tattoo at the neck region. His hair was short but long enough to keep flickering about as they jogged onwards; a slight tan on his skin suggested this guy at the least cared how he looked. A business man perhaps, or was he simple a waiter?
At the far left he caught my attention, grinning madly as he ran, I recognised him immediately. He has been in my mind ever since child school and become more apparent ever since I finished my mandatory military service, unable to get a job I keep the guy around to humour myself with homicidal maniac me.
His hair is wild and greased, coloured in a purple hue. His skin gothic pale and the body is an anorectic wreck. He wore my headphones and had music ripping trough my mind as I inspected his clothes. A purple corporate suit, his shirt was stained pink as if he had washed it with red clothes.
Along side him was police me, my justice personified in the form of old school noir detective style. His coat and clothes wearing shades of grey, brown shoes, looking slightly older than military me who jogged lightly next to my female persona.
Because hey, if you are going to be jogging for a long time might as well steal the best view and enjoy the jog to its fullest potential. Out of everyone he was the least encumbered by this jog, a body only several years in the army grants you. He looked more mercenary than army though and that disturbs me somewhat.
The last two personas that where there I have yet to describe, because I was instantly put into some first person perspective jogging alongside everyone. I have yet to understand why they where jogging, I just knew it was a race but before wondering what kind of race people stopped. Their voices still muffled and unclear to me, a boat waited on us here. It just came into view and we climbed onto this pretty giant cruise ship.
Homicidal Me commented on Waiter Me’s clothes, saying something along the lines of. “At least I don’t look like mafia.” Upon witch Waiter Me who looked clearly intimidated ripped him up from the floor and beat him down. The laughter that came from that whole ordeal was eerie and unnatural. “You are nothing even with all your imagined strength.”
Following was a few moments of eerie silence where I stared at my female persona asking her name id say it if I could remember but all I recall is that it begins with an M. Then my vision wandered as I saw Justice me sit down in doubt. Homicidal Me sat down next to him, his wounds non existent. Inside his eyes I travelled back into a black bottomless pit surrounded by the fog the whole thing started with, His words where there when I woke up.
”People can go their whole lives without purpose; I want just you to win.”
Afterthoughts: Studying the dream and thinking for these next hours I have reached the conclusions that my mind is split in different paths, I can only choose one and stick with it and as a result my different personas are fighting each others and killing off the ones I cant choose.
I can only assume my E-sport self already died somewhere in that race or when Cataclysm came out, probably killed by Homicidal Me as he was wearing the razor product wristband.
Waiter Me with the tattoo stuff is an imagined me that seems unlikely to happen. That is why when confronting Homicidal Me he is powerless and gets laughed at.
