I'd been walking down a slope towards my UC Berkeley dormitory late at night. This creepy Asian guy in a hooded black sweater had walked towards me and shoved a small smoke-emitting object at my nose.
I felt dazed, even high, and could barely think. Clearly, this gas was potent and life-threatening. (The thing about the dream-state is that it can simulate drugs very, very convincingly. This is because dreaming and being high are quite similar experiences. So I truly believed that this was real and I was going to die.) Immediately I turned away, held my breath, and began to run away from the dormitory. The murderer paused for a moment, then decided not to give chase; he only had a limited amount of time before he either got caught or died, and his target was the dormitory building full of sleeping students.
I ran to the outdoors dining area, which resembled the lunch area in Harvest Park Middle School. Though it was late at night, there were large crowds of people eating there, so I felt safe. I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, still feeling high/dazed. The phone's advanced AI knew I was in danger and therefore automatically dialed the local "911," which was 0900. When greeted by the female receptionist, the first thing I said was, "I'm high." This turned out to be a retarded decision, since it was followed by a slew of "reassurances."
"There's this guy -- " I kept saying, but was constantly interrupted by "calm down, calm down, it's okay." Finally I erupted and yelled "WILL YOU PLEASE JUST LET ME FINISH WHAT I'M SAYING!!!" and they became silent.
"There's this guy with a canister... and it's emanating gas!"
"We were told that 10 times already, Max. Victims are to meet at the east edge of Telegraph Avenue," the 911 girl said. Apparently they had already gotten numerous 911 calls from the dormitory building. Also, the 911 girl recognized my voice. Interesting (NOT AN IMPORTANT PLOT POINT).
So I start to make my way towards Telegraph. Although I am walking through a residential area, dense crowds of people fill the streets, perhaps walking towards the same meeting spot due to the current murder situation.
Someone calls me from an anonymous number. I pick up, "Hello?"
"Where are you?"
"Huh? Who are you?" I retort.
"I'm... Stanley..." says the man at the other end of the line. Then I hear him laughing with his friends just before he hangs up on me, saying "damn I fucked that up so bad." The murderer had attempted and failed to determine my location by calling me.
The murderer is clearly after me, but the crowds are so dense that I feel safe hiding amongst the multitude of faces. Unfortunately, before long one of the murderer's accomplices spies me and yells, "Here's Max!" The killer, who had been walking in front of me, turns around and runs after me. The people around us don't know what's going on, so they try to restrain both of us. I tell the guy who's restraining me, "That guy is going to literally murder me. He's a killer." He lets me go. Still, the murderer approaches rapidly, and I am running very slowly due to low-gravity dream-running. "Were I wearing my running shoes," I tell myself, "I'd be able to outrun this guy easily."
I parkour onto a thin ledge about 5 feet above the ground and grab hold of the chain link fence behind it. My real-life girlfriend and dream-world ex-girlfriend Fernanda emerges from the crowd. She is the murderer (due to a dream detail glitch, I have forgotten about the creepy Asian guy and therefore changed the identity of the murderer). It is raining. Her skin is wet, and her hair long like when we first met. She pleads with me to take her back, because apparently I had time to break up with her earlier when I found out she was a murderer. Naturally, I tell her that I broke up with her because she became a murderer, and I ask her why she tried to gas me. She ignores the question and continues to beg me to take her back. A small crowd has gathered around the scene. I gaze down at her from the ledge. She is so beautiful, and I yearn for her. Yet, she is insane and will attempt to kill me again if we get back together. I am torn and begin to cry. Soundtrack to this scene: a 2-measure phrase that I subconsciously composed that loops over and over again, included here. I made this in two seconds using Logic Pro.
The end.
Representative of the murderer's garbs, but not the setting.
