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Interpreting the dream

Mika and I called it a day. I returned home flamished. Fortunately my father was there,he understood what I needed. He gave me a glass of wine and sweet cheesecake. I felt special for those few minutes.

“Do you still remember that dream you once told me about, the one where a little boy aged between four stood at the top of a mountain. On his chest was a board with the words “only blood could save me?.” My father asked, bow bridges looking similar to that of Frankenstein’s creature.

He seemed interested, perhaps he remembered something that could potentially lead me somewhere.

“Do you know the little boy?” I was curious. My father paused for a while.

“I think I do. Come with me.” he said, leading me into his office behind the book shelves, which I ended up naming, “The dark office”.

“You said that the little boy was at the peak of the mountain, am I correct?”

“Yes I did.” 

“Can you recall the exact description of the mountain?” 

“The mountain w
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