The PC is the target!

The dream started with three men standing on a green are between 6 several floors high houses separated by wired fence. They had a big gun (I am bad with knowing them), and they shot from that in any possible directions. It seemed like a quiet nice place with nothing unordinary going on, but this in the early morning was seriously disturbing – they shot so randomly!

 The next image was of a couple, dressed old fashioned, like the end of the 1980s – the entire dream was like from that time. The shots surprised them as well, but instead of the typical panic, they seemed rather oriented in their actions. There were other men too and after taking one hidden glance out of the window, they immediately pulled away, dragging everybody from the room with them. They said the men out there are targeting them. To me it seemed like a diversion. The woman seemed to think the same. She was lovely with her brown shoulder length hair and sky blue dress. She ran out, saying she wanted to see the men and what was going on and that she’d be fine if she kept behind the house corner.

 Others followed her and they went to see. Suddenly she pointed at something and after the smoke disappeared, it was obvious it was a small child, about 3 or 4 years old, only wearing trousers and a pack bag. She was smoldered with mud and ash and though the woman ran straight to her, I kept expecting her to blow up or something. I blame the old research for this notion – the Vietnam war was… Anyway, there was something wrong with that little sun baked child and I couldn’t bring myself to touch him. But the woman dragged him out of there and passed her to one of the men waiting on the other side of the fence. They took the child back to the fourth floor and started searching what had happened. As I understood their apartment had been shot and the force had sent him out on the street with his bed. He came searching people, because he didn’t know where his parents were.

 That was all very nice and what followed was tons of phone calls trying to locate his parents. While they were busy with that I watched that kid from where I was sitting, but he didn’t seem to notice me. The guns had ceased from existence and it was quiet except their rambling. I don’t think he saw me, but I had a good view from my place and watched how he climbed up the sofa, so he could reach to the small table standing behind it and started going through the bags with documents. One by one he looked at them until he found the one he was looking for and off he went with documents nicely tucked in his pack bag. I raised alarm, but with fear of hurting the 3-4 year old on the stairs, the men simply couldn’t get pass their instincts and the child got away.

 Then hell broke loose. My roles in the story changed, from the man sitting and watching the kid act to the admin of R22. The next scene was how the couple had flew all the way from wherever they were to my workplace, R22, and explained to me on Saturday day, that secret documents have been stolen from the government of United States and this had jeopardized our lives as well. How? I asked. I didn’t get it – what had our tiny dorm to do with Pentagon or US? Because when our computer broke down, he explained, it was returned to us new, but the US secret service had also added one more mother board that had most of the files related with their secret information on it. Wow, I said. How come it had never been detected? Why are you telling this to me, I questioned and the woman explained that hadn’t their documents referring to this Mother Board been better kept, they wouldn’t have to bring this up, but now they needed someone to protect their property.

 They forbid us to stand against the men should they come. But for some reason, they didn’t take the mother board with them either.

After few days (I saw it as a new scene), I was at work when suddenly a man appeared to front desk. He spoke English and said he was a security consult/overseer from European Union. I thought he wasn’t right, considering he was Indian origin, but as I was told to play innocent, it’s what I did. I do think now though, that hadn’t I been warned to play innocent unknowing person, I would’ve kicked him out. But now I shrugged and let him in. He immediately turned to our recording machine and started dragging something. But my attention was diverted with another man arriving. This time, he said, he was the IT consultant. I said ok, feeling really alarmed – he looked one-on-one with the security consult. I guess I tried to look busy and I started writing down every movement they made with the wires, thinking we can get over this bundle easier if we knew what they did there. I also pushed in the silent panic alarm and just sat there waiting.

 The men in black arrived only a minute later and I pointed straight at the men working under my desk and pulled away fast. The security consult immediately stood and started arguing while the other one kept working.

 The security service ordered them to remove themselves from the room, when the 3 small bombs went off next to the bicycle room on the three bikes that had been put there a week ago or so. I saw myself for a moment as the rider in lilac jumper, who had been circling in the parking lot, watching the action going on inside and then drove away, activating the bombs one by one with his remote control.

 Right as that happened, the men inside the room, with whom had joined few more strangers, ran out from the back door and the security right after them. The two continued their work on the computer and my eyes reverted back on them. “HEI!” I yelled, realizing that they were cutting through all the wires and stumbled forward to push them away, but got tangled up with the wires running on the floor. When he tossed his fist at me, I pulled back, but with that the pc, attached to the wires, flew through between them and in the wall behind me. Then the Indian twins ran as well.

 Left alone, I grabbed the mother board from the pc – it was already unattached to the shell- and ran after the security. “It’s the PC!” I yelled, “the PC is the target!” I didn’t get pass the corner though. I saw the two Indians laying against the pillars, watching the action taking place outside. “Shit!” and I plunged my back front into the bathroom behind me. I banged the door shut, locked the miserable lock it had and pushed myself as far away from the paper door as I could, terrified and hugging the mother board. I could hear the horrific struggling going on outside, but woke up before I could see the end of it all.

 P.S. Translation gone wrong. When you put mürsuheitja to google translation, it translates it to caster cups. A.k.a. The cups that are put under pianos so it wouldn’t move. Did not know that.


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