Dreams.

It often happens that a dream ends at the most interesting part. And that's what happened today. Apparently, in my dream, I was a gladiator. The dream started with me walking down a long, dark corridor, katana in hand (a somewhat unusual weapon for a gladiator, I must say), towards an exit from which blinding sunlight was pouring. Along the walls of the corridor stood other gladiators; some patted me on the shoulder, while others shouted something, raising one hand in the air. Words were unnecessary; their eyes showed that I was walking to my death. Some of them were sad, while others were glad that my lifeless body would soon fall onto this sand, scorched by the midday sun... Yes, I was probably walking to my death, but I didn't feel any fear. On the contrary, I was filled with joy at the prospect of the upcoming battle with an unknown opponent, and judging by everything, he was very large and terrifying, considering that they had already buried me before I even stepped into the arena. My left shoulder and entire left arm up to the wrist were covered in armor, and my right hand gripped the katana even tighter, as if it were eager to break free and quench its insatiable thirst for blood. I approached the exit; the shouts of the crowd grew louder, the light became more blinding, and then: "It's time to get up!" FFUUUU... damn it... no, really... to not let me finish such a dream -____-