0 I'm going to write a story in four parts. Each week I'll write one part in this thread. I would be very grateful if you could have a look to the story and correct any mistake.02br
00Thank you very much in advance.02br
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00(PART I)02br
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00-The feeling of being in prison is the worst.02b02br
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00At the background it is heard the concert of Vivaldi. The ticking from a clock from somewhere. A sun’s ray filters through a half-closed blind heats his fingers. The feeling is pleasant.02b02br
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00-Describe it.02b02br
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00- It’s so exhausting…. Time and time again. I want to come back. I want to wake up. But I can’t. It is suffocating.02b02br
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00The woman writes down what he says. It is heard the drawing on the paper.02b02br
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00-At that moment. Do you know you are dreaming?02b02br
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00-Not always. But it’s better when I don’t realize it. I don’t suffer, just dream.02b02br
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00-So, what suffocates you is the fact of realizing you are dreaming.02b02br
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00-…and not being able to go out from there.02b02br
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00- go out?02b02br
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00- Wake up myself. But the feeling of being in prison is such that I don’t think of waking up but escaping. What are you doing?02b02br
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00The woman lifts the pencil from the paper.02b02br
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00- I’m taking notes. Does it bother you? 02br
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00- Not, it doesn’t. Are you really doing that?02b02br
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00-Sure. Would you rather I stopped doing it?02b02br
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00-Not, I wouldn’t. 02b02br
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00-Ok…. You were telling me that you don’t think of waking up but escaping.02b02br
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00Right. Most of times, I realize quite soon I am sleeping. Usually, someone who is already dead appears and it is just at that moment I am well aware of being dreaming. It’s odd, no matter how surrealist the dream is the only thing that gets my conscious awake is the presence of somebody who is no longer alive.02b02br
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00 I mean… it’s all the same to me whether I walk upside down, fly, mix the past and the present or travel to the future. Everything seems completely natural to me; Go through a wall, smell the colours, go into a room and appear in the dessert… None of these events place me on alert. However, when a dead appears I tell myself, I’m dreaming again.Dad died three years ago so I am dreaming. It’s when the nightmare starts. Because I try to remember how my real life is. I want to know how my bed is, where I live, whether I sleep alone or with somebody, what I had for dinner last night or for lunch at evening. Maybe I am having a rest or sleeping in my car. But, what car I have? I am trapped in a fake world and I am not able to remember who I am or how to go back to home. Then I start to ask the people around me…02b02br
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