Dreams.

Brr. What a creepy dream. Today I had a long, narrative, and colorful dream (usually my dreams are in black and white). It started with me and my cousin driving to Kyiv to buy something – and also to help out an acquaintance from “the agency.” At the same time, my dad was going to some kind of banking meeting, for some reason in the style of the Mayan Indians – masks, stone, and other weird stuff. This was, so to speak, a side plot of the dream. We arrive in Kyiv, check into an apartment, and SUDDENLY we discover that they didn't give us money, but instead gave us four hundred (400!) grams of heroin with the goal of selling it, and at the same time, I know for sure that we are operating within the law. My brother goes somewhere while I'm preparing food, and he returns with money, and we go to sleep. In the morning, we drive to Petrovka (a large book market in Kyiv) because that's where what we're looking for is located. For some reason, I put on my WINTER CAMOUFLAGE jacket (even though it's hot, but I don't feel any discomfort), and I hide the remaining 150 grams in a tightly packed bag deeper into a hole in the back. We drive, but then – bam! – Petrovka turns out to be ten times bigger than in reality, and even in it, there are small squares with benches. My brother and I find what we were sent for and go to rest – we sit on a bench. My brother approaches a book stall and, for some reason, steals two books from it in an absolutely fantastic way – and what's more, he steals books by Daria Dontsova!!! Well, okay, we sit, he reads, and then a patrol of police officers passes by with a small dog on a leash. The dog attacks me, they search me, find the stash, and start to sort things out. I call home, and my father – who just arrived from the meeting, still in his suit – calls the person who asked us to transport this stuff. At this time, the police officer, who turns out to be my father's acquaintance, leads me to the CHILDREN'S ROOM of the police station, but for some reason, we end up in my hometown (450 km from Kyiv). And somewhere here the dream ends; the only thing I remember is that I didn't feel fear, but rather resentment towards the jerks who were interfering. Brr. What a load of crap.