I’m in an English manor-styled mansion and it is burning down. I’m trapped on the second floor looking out over the driveway. I hear sirens and feel relieved that the fire brigade is coming. The vehicles pull into the drive and stop. Men get out. They then turn to stones lying on the ground and the vehicles melt into puddles. “Damnit, I’ll just have to get myself out.”
I am outside the building watching it burn, when a friend comes along. He says, “I would have come sooner but I heard the sirens and knew you were getting help.” I tell him what happened. He starts to question me, claiming I’ve had a trauma and I’m not in my right mind. I say, “I’m done trying to convince people that what I experience is real.” I turn my back and walk away.
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