It was a nice summer evening. A cool breeze blowing. Birds singing. Leaves rustling. The waters of the pool shining, shimmering in the sunlight. I was sitting on the steps of the pool, my legs submerged in water.Those blue depths were irrestisible. I inched a bit further in. Water to my waist a little more. closer to the blue..just a little morewater to my chest yes, keep goinga bit morewater to my neck.almost there.the blue gaze of those depths held me in aweoh my..so beaut- Going up a sort of endless escalator. I can't see very well what's in front of me. It's all very dark. I can sense someone behind me, but I dare not look back. For some reason I cannot see my feet. In fact, I cannot see any of me at all. It feels very strange and well,creepy! I want to whistle, to kinda comfort myself, but it feels like I've lost the ability to speak. My mind just doesn't know how to carry out this desire to speak. It feels unnatural.. That someone behind me pokes me in my(invisible) back. Its'(his/her?) touch is strangely warm, then icy. I still don't look back.yes, that's the key, don't look back. It's a test. Just don't look back and you'll- Snap! Back into the pool, panting. Everything is blurry. There are people gathered around the pool, screaming. A hand extends toward me. I reach for it. Well, I'd love to tell you what happened after that, but the thing is, I don't even know myself. For just at that precise moment, my wretched alarm decided to beep-beep. And I never got to see the ending! Wait, did you mean "went to the other side" in reality? Don't be ridiculous! Question: How long did the dream take to play out? Options: A. a few seconds B. a day C. not enough information D. an hour === The correct answer is
A

(Question)
I think that one of the people who caused me the most misery for the longest was someone that I'll call "Luna". So, most people have probably met that person that acts all suicidal and then uses that against you. For example, you're talking to someone like that and you're having some sort of argument and the moment they realize they aren't winning they send you pictures of their bloodied wrists and say "This is your fault". Well, that person was my friend for a long time. Every time I would try to leave her to go to sleep she would threaten to do "something bad" and I knew what she meant, and me, first meeting her when I was around 9 or 10, and I was still extremely naive. So most of the time, I ended up staying awake til 3 AM on school nights and I would get only a few hours of sleep, and she'd be happy because her life wasn't worsened at all. But I think the thing that made me the most miserable, was the fact that it never got better. No matter how much I talked to her, or how sympathetic I tried to be, or how much I tried to convince her to be happier, it never got better. She still acted super depressed, but like it was a joke. All of these things combined to make me completely miserable because it seemed like it was all for nothing. But I just let it happen, because she was the only person I had and she was really my only "friend" at that point, and all the way up to seventh grade. So for that entire period of time, she certainly wasn't the only source of misery for me, but she made me feel way worse than I would have if I hadn't been friends with her. Question: Luna is most likely has: Options: A. a split personality syndrome B. a severe mental disorder C. not enough information D. a schizophrenic / bipolar disorder === The correct answer is
(Answer)
D

Ques: Greg said goodbye to his last student at 8:15 PM, locked up the studio, and got into his car. He always looked forward to his evening rendezvous with Bonnie--his nickname for the Bonneville. He liked to put her top down, and drive her around town in the moonlight. Their route varied from night to night, but the ultimate destination was never in question. "May I help you?" The worn-out speaker was crackly, but he still recognized the particularly twangy East Texas voice of Fontana Fry. Over his six years of vocal training, he had become acutely aware of accents. This is true of all classically trained singers. Great emphasis is placed on precise pronunciation and enunciation. It is mandatory that the singer's repertoire include works written in English, Latin, Italian, German, and French. So, by the time Greg finished his graduate degree, his accent had been all but eliminated. He sounded somewhat like a network news anchor instead of an East Texan. "I would like a large--" "--a large dipped cone, the usual. Right?" The Dairy Queen drive-thru ordering station was located out in front of the restaurant, on the right side. He looked up, and saw the 19 year-old waving at him. She looked so cute in her little Dairy Queen outfit. Fontana was in her first year at Kilgore College. She planned to be an elementary teacher. He knew she would be a good one. Greg had met Fontana a few months earlier when she brought her 13-year-old brother to the studio to enroll for guitar lessons. The boy was holding a U.S. made, 1968 Harmony acoustic guitar his uncle gave him. The body and the frets were badly worn, but the instrument still played beautifully. It looked somewhat like a large violin, with arched top and f-holes. That shape produces a more mellow sound than flattops. And the guitar's age contributed additional warmth to the tone. Question: Greg liked to drive around town: Options: A. At 8:15 B. Six years ago C. In the moonlight D. not enough information === The correct answer is
Ans:
C