Timothy Paradox

I was seated at a large table together with many of my former classmates. We were eating sandwiches (pistolets). I specifically remember T. Leyssens.

Long dream, but all I got is mostly forgotten one-word notes. I think I kidnapped the double of the headmaster of the school (a woman) and temporarily locked her up in a closet of sorts. I told her I was going to "make her rich" before I closed the closet door. I think I had some kind of scheme planned out that would make use of her physical resemblance to the headmaster to make lots of cash. I went to tell 'the others'. Including my former boss from work (P. Bosmans), who seemed as skeptical as always.

I was at home (apartment, 4th floor), and my mother was there too. A woman 'rings' the doorbell. I see her face on the screen of that doorbell gizmo of which I don't know the English name. Intercom? She looks like a stereotypical hooker. She orders me to let her in. Or else. She pulls out a revolver, and makes it clear that if I don't let her in, she'll break in and hurt us. I get super pissed off, a shot of adrenaline going through me, and tell her "mine's bigger" (I own an AR15 carbine and Remington 870 shotgun). As I walk towards the bedroom to get my artillery, I tell my mother to call the cops. I open the gun locker, and decide to settle for the Glock 19. It takes forever to get the gun ready, as the law requires the weapon to be unloaded, secured with a trigger lock, and ammo stores separately. As I was messing around with the bullets (my fine motor skills were impaired by the adrenaline rush), I felt like I was fully prepared to kill that woman. The idea that it felt so easy kind of scared me. My plan was to open my bedroom window (which is right above the front door), and give her ONE chance to fuck off. If she tried anything, she'd be dead. Luckily, moments before I could put my brash plan into action, I woke up. Still stiff with real-world adrenaline.