I was in a flat. It was oone of rhe lowe floors in the building. I think there was a woman in it with me. I do not know whom. There was a man in the building who had burst in to other flats and killed people. I have been thinking lately about how these Chinese basketball players came to our place in Hangzhou and beat up my Chinese chum. Maybe this got me dreaming/
Then in the daytime this man came into the flat uninvited. I do not know why the door was not locked. He was white and hefty but not call. I think he represents Wyn. Wyn was my nemesis in Baku and I wish to send him a missive.
He looked sulky. He is pathetic and thinks he is tough when in fact he is a wuss. Oddly I did not feel nervous. I do not remember him carrying a weapon. I had a handgun. I found it very easy to shoot him a few times in the chest from a range of several metres. His chest did not bleed but he had been hit. Bizarrely he did not fall or stagger. I rushed towards him. Suddnely my gun became a kicthen knfe. I stabbed him several time sn the chest and he fell down dead. I do not recall there being blood.
I was very satisfied. Several people came around and congratulayed me. I was as proud as punch. There were men and women who thanked me. One of the men was a tall, middle aged Arab man in traditional Arabian robes.
What can it all mean? Part of me was thinking this man I slew was Polish. Wht has that got to do anything? There are no Polish people/ I have disliked Polish women who were my housemates. I have never had beef with a Polish man. Wyn is a Brit. I think this is because I was reading about a British Polish comic yesternight.