Great Wall Of China

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*3368+3426+3488 granule three in one*

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*The Great Wall of China*

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I have no idea what this might mean and honestly I don't care.

The past few days I've had little motivation to upload pages, let alone anything else.

I called into work two days ago and Frank cussed me out. I just couldn't bring myself to leave my room. I could get as far as getting dressed but i just couldn't open the door.

I had a dream last night that inspired me to upload a page. Not anything to do with the journal, but it's a dream I needed to talk about. I just didn't want to tell anyone I knew.

The details are a little fuzzy. That tends to happen when you wait twelve hours since you woke up to recall a dream.

I remember something about being in an arcade. Alone. The normally bright and colorful machines were dead and the whole place was empty. There was no sound. None at all, no crowd murmur, no buzzers sounding, no crying child. Just silence. Like if I tried to say something, even shout, my voice would be muffled and destroyed before the sound left my mouth.

I don't remember how I got there but the next sequence of the dream placed myself and a man I'd never seen in thick jungle overgrowth. We held crudely made crossbows in our hands, and our clothes were crusted with mud and tattered. We were standing absolutely still. Hunting something.

I can't visualize what we were hunting. I know it was reptilian in nature, something like a crocodile or dinosaur perhaps. But it also burrowed in and out of the ground rapidly. The other hunter and I watched the jungle floor intently, crossbows at the ready. Whatever we were hunting was dangerous.

I know we shot a few of these creatures. We celebrated, and I think I even gloated about my accuracy to the other hunter. We felt on top of the world. Until across the clearing, another man emerged. He was taller than any man could be in real life, and he wore black plate mail armor like something you'd see in a videogame. He must've stood around 9 feet tall. In his hands was a crossbow the size of a small motorcycle, like a chopper type. It was sleek and the bolt was surely the width of my leg.

In our moment of foolish confidence, I raised my flimsy crossbow, aimed slightly above his head, and fired. The arrow soared through the air, whistling, before harmlessly glancing off the bottom portion of the giant's helmet.

There was an immediate change in my partner and I's attitudes. Our profitable killing spree was over, and now we were the prey.

I exchanged a glance with the other hunter, before I am struck directly in the chest and killed instantly.

What worried me about this dream should be obvious to you, the reader.

I died.

I know many people have nightmares close to death, like the infamous infinite falling dream or the being chased forever dream. But I don't think it's as common to die in your dreams. It shook me a little bit.

Part of me thinks this isn't the first time I've dreamt my own death.

The strangest part of all of it is that I know the dream didn't end at my death. In fact, my death was probably about two-thirds of the way through it. But I cannot recall even the slightest thing about what happened next.