We are racing. I
am racing against a group of three teenagers who are hunting down
treasure. Yet somehow, I am not the man I see in my dreams – more
like a shadow that sticks close to him.
He shimmies across
the back alley windows of an apartment building. He is very fast and
nimble, like a parkour athlete, and I can feel the contraction of his
muscles, and also his fear of losing his grip and slipping off the
window sills. As he travels along, the group of three teenagers
already head back and laugh at him.
Even so, he
reaches the corner of the building and continues up. At a certain
point, a man tells him that there is a shortcut to the treasure by
entering a door that is located on the ceiling. He goes up, I go up
there with him, and then we appear at the top of a wide mountain.
By the time we get
to the treasure, another group of teenagers appear, and this time we
laugh at them. I don't know what the treasure is, but after that we
are all standing around at the top of the mountain. A boy introduces
our group to the other group. He announces which university major we
are all in, but he doesn't mention mine.
That's OK, I was
never really a chemical engineer anyway.
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