Dreams.

There was some kind of semi-apocalypse, as a result of which more than half of the people on the planet died. I never quite understood what exactly happened there, but the world wasn't collapsing, Cthulhu wasn't awakening, and aliens with tentacles weren't appearing. But everyone was somehow "fleeing," because otherwise they would die. At the same time, many (very many!) were committing suicide for some reason, and in exactly two ways: either they were throwing themselves off a steamboat (for some reason, this always signified death), or something else, I don't remember what exactly. Perhaps they were poisoning themselves with some kind of chemical.
The steamboat was the place where everyone gathered, the means by which everyone was fleeing. But there were many conflicts, people were constantly killing each other, throwing each other overboard, or they were throwing themselves overboard, but people somehow kept ending up on the steamboat, even though it was always moving.
I remember seeing someone (it seems like a woman) trying to kill herself in the second way. I saw her thoughts and feelings. She somehow got off the steamboat and went to some place not far from the city (on some kind of hills, I think). There was a house there. She was talking to herself, with tears in her eyes: "This is where I spent my childhood. This is where I used to walk with Anechka. This is the hut where I lived. There's a bed in it, the bed where I was born." She was reminiscing about places from her childhood and feeling incredibly nostalgic. But she didn't die, either I saved her, or she changed her mind.
I was generally saving people there. My guitar teacher from the guitar club became the head of the rescue organization, and I was somewhere at the top of that organization, but I was an operative. I don't know how I was saving them, but I think I saved a lot of people.
Ugh, instead of finishing everyone off, I'm saving people. I don't want to.
And besides, it's all nonsense