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I don’t remember much of everything: not the particulars, not the surrounding fellows, but I do remember the water. The whole apartment was flooded completely. Well, at least the room, where all of us were trapped, was. I swam towards my fellows or them towards me. It was a bit difficult to make out with all of the warm bodies. And I watched myself as we attempted to break out through the jailed windows. We talked, and talked and talked some more; perhaps, screamed collectively but the pressure of the water muffled our anguish. We beat our tiny paws against the window and flapped our tails.

I woke up then with a feeling of entrapment and a strong wish to return to see it to the end and wanting to free myself and the mice.

We were one in the same, I suppose. The apartment, whose jailed room were drowning in, was on the same floor that my family and I lived on. It was situated down the line. And every time I’d pass the jailed window, my curiosity unquenched prevailed regardless of my state of mind or body. In retrospect, I know why I’d visited the room full of blue.

As I put myself to sleep, I manipulated the dream and the windows ended up being bar less. The pressure of the water broke the glass and all of the mice ended up being carried towards the middle elevator. By this second time into the dream, I had become relatively detached from the mice. And so being woken the second time, I relished going back just to finish off the story, out of curiosity.

This second time, the indefatigable mice had been manipulated into flooding the ground floor of the building as the water magically carried them to that floor. Even though I was fully conscious and scoffed at the ridiculousness of the whole scene, I trapped the mice this time round. And as my subconscious whined not again, the glass doors shattered and they were all let out, flushed out.

Good riddance, I’d thought, can’t be bothered to flood the whole city.

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