sprada

I was in an elevator going up with some other people. We were plotting some attack on something. Something in the world wasn't right (something about Big Brother, Aldous Huxley kind of thing).
Only when the elevator stopped we noticed that this kind of Mexican guy with a mustache had died. He was our leader I guess. His arms got stuck on a piece of the door that was made of glass. He bled to death.
This was a big big dream that went on forever. I can't remember.