I dream about prepping for my day at school, putting all my books and notebooks in my bag, determined to find out my class schedule this time— (Why do I keep dreaming about this?! As far as I can remember I had no problem keeping track of my schedule back then.)

(At this point I’m woken by my new South American neighbor, who is AS USUAL barking at her phone on the balcony next to my bedroom window. It’s 7:20 of a Sunday morning.)

I fall asleep again and I dream that I go knocking on the woman’s door. I’m welcomed in by the two sisters who used to live here twenty years ago: they are adults now and we chat amicably, catching up on our lives.

I finally reach the garden (how is there a garden inside an apartment?) where my new neighbor is standing. In my broken Spanish, I try to beg her to please, please stop screaming at her phone. She takes my hand and tells me her name is Marisol and she misses her family very much. Then we have to run away because the garden fills with smoke as the building catches fire. A group of firefighters that are actually child acrobats rush in after us.

By now I’m trying to wake myself up because I’m aware I’ve overslept. I have no luck as I keep finding myself inside another nested dream. Since nothing is real anyway, I decide to go outside and make people strip naked.