Dreams.

We were walking through the desert, a small group of us, appearing and disappearing. That's where I broke my leg, though I don't remember how. It was a bad break, an open fracture, with my foot twisted back behind my shin, and I felt real pain even in my sleep. I don't remember how I and another guy managed to reach a small settlement. Looking at the state of my leg, I really wanted to find a doctor, but at the same time, I knew I couldn't stay there for a week or a month, waiting to heal, because I needed to get to my destination quickly. This guy, who was with me, a drug addict, told me, "Don't look for a doctor, just wait until morning, a doctor I know will come and treat you for free." And I thought he was an idiot. However, my leg didn't look as bad anymore, more like a regular open fracture than a dismembered limb. Then, other things happened, but it definitely wasn't treatment, and I found myself continuing the journey. My fracture turned into a closed one, and the bone was noticeably displaced. I visited many places and talked to different people: at the edge of a forest and in a dacha with some old woman; with some shady people, discussing the regenerative abilities of my body, because over time, the bones healed on their own, and my limb was as good as new; at an inactive underwater base, where I was looking for some handwritten notes, trying to figure out a complicated plot. The last thing I learned before my death was that the notes, written not a year or two ago, were addressed to me, that the peaceful expedition that sent me here was responsible for all the destruction, and that I was superfluous to them. I don't remember how I died, but I woke up in my own bed, sitting up, aware that it was a dream, until I heard that quiet dripping sound on the wooden floor. It turned out that the leaky pipe I had recently fixed in the lab had returned, but this time, the water somehow flooded the electrical system. Everything was crackling and flickering, and I was pulling out all the electrical appliances I could with rubber gloves, but I didn't have enough light. It was early morning, and due to the electrical problems, the lighting in my room wasn't working. As I walked around my completely empty house, I heard unpleasant voices, presumably ghosts. One of them definitely belonged to the Pope from that desert settlement. I forgot to mention that in one of the houses, in the basement, on a table like in a mausoleum, the Pope was resting, but they said he was "small, smaller." Apparently, not the real one. And I also found a bowl of human fat in my house. That's what kind of inception I had – a nightmare within a nightmare. Of course, they weren't nightmares, except for the unpleasant pain in my leg, which was broken like a twig, but there was definitely something unpleasant about them.