I had such a dream

They shouted at me to run faster, but the sand wouldn't let me. It wasn't hot, but those tiny grains slowed my movements almost impossibly. I could already see the entrance. My breath, panting like a dog's, made me choke, and I had to spit out saliva. Too much dust, and I still had to run. The sun, not too bright that day, I caught a glimpse of, as did the mountain peaks in the distance and those small figures. Although they could just as easily have been tree stumps. Whatever. Someone pushed me in and shouted to me to go faster, because they had to blow things up. The tunnel was wide and almost drowning in sand. As I ran, I turned around for a moment. A man appeared, knocked off his feet by something. I stood in horror as this figure, familiar to me, tried to crawl towards us, and had no more than five meters left before the words escaped his lips: "He's blowing things up" and "Run!" I think I screamed, but a strong hand pressed me to the sand, and I heard a bang. Most of the entrance collapsed! They shouted that it was over, and indeed it was over. A moment later, another bang, and another, and the sun disappeared, everything drowning in sand. Someone was pulling me deeper into the tunnel, then closing the enormous door. Strange. As if they had any reason to. It would be difficult to get through this sand. But apparently, it had to be that way. Before me were many faces and a lot of light, flickering slightly. Everyone was happy that we had made it, that we would survive here for a very long time, and that everything would end there. Of course, it was, wonderful, wonderful. The large corridors and even larger rooms bring peace, though a slight choking sensation in my throat of unknown origin. I have no idea why. Just bare walls and a bit of dirt, but concrete, and we were safe even from an atomic bomb. All the time, as I walked, I watched people, their faces draining of peace and exhaustion. They lay next to each other, smoking cigarettes, or eating sandwiches, laughing at my still-frightened self. I say sorry, but that only brings on more laughter. Good-natured laughter. As if they were trying to cheer me up. I ask if we'll run out of air, but they say absolutely not, that we have plenty of air and have a light, but I don't smoke, thank you. We know he died, but someone had to do it. Well, yes, but why him? By accident, by complete accident. If you were carrying that damn fuse, then... Too bad... I have some good food for you. No, thank you, sir, I'd rather walk alone and think. Oh, no. Thinking, boy, isn't very advisable at this moment, and in your case. But please allow me. More corridors, rooms, people. Quite a few people, even. This time I notice more nooks and crannies where lively discussions are taking place and breathing is more rapid. But it's probably just my imagination. There's nowhere I can sit alone without being disturbed. I reach that strange door,There's no way out, and I open it slightly. Someone points out that it would be best if I locked it and didn't look in. However, I silence them with a gesture and listen. And I hear what I'd rather never hear. I want to say something, but no one pays attention, and only a few grains of sand, breaking off from the others and rolling to my feet, give me the answer: run, run, and fast. The door slams, and somewhere off to the side I see an entrance. Completely hidden. No one has noticed before! I head in that direction, and to my great relief, the steel door turns out to be light, and at the touch of my hand, it recedes like a bad mood at the sight of a beautiful sunset. Just a few cobwebs, and I'm in a narrow corridor that ends with a similar door, which recedes just as easily under the pressure of the eye. Then the stairs and the wooden door, this time, and immediately after them, a slightly larger and richly decorated corridor. It's beautiful here. The light is strong and clear. It doesn't even flicker. Then the stairs, the door, the corridor upholstered in some soft material, and a chair. Stairs, corridor, light, chair, fabric, but this time softer, and from this corridor, an additional door through which I peer, and behind which lies a courtroom. A courtroom. Tall chairs and everything in a warm, burgundy fabric that envelops everything. I close it quietly, and as I descend the next staircase, I hear, "What are they thinking, you snot-nosed brats? We'll show them!" I hear footsteps, shouts, confusion, doors slamming. I start running. It's getting lower and lower, and at the same time more beautiful, I'd even say more elegant and warmer. There are also more courtrooms with similar decor. Doors, corridors, chairs, light, fabric, and courtrooms always somewhere to the right of the corridor. And suddenly, behind another door, a spiral staircase. Almost like a ladder, steep and winding, even made of steel, like something from the beginning. Sweating, holding on to the railing, I run down a dozen turns and stop in front of a figure who, sitting calmly at a table, seems to be waiting. Wait for me. I steady my breathing and swallow hard.Then stairs, doors, a corridor upholstered in some soft material, and a chair. Stairs, corridor, light, chair, material, but this time softer, and from this corridor, an additional door through which I peer, and behind which lies a courtroom. A courtroom. Tall chairs and everything in the warm, burgundy color of material enveloping everything. I close it quietly, and as I descend the next staircase, I hear, "What are they thinking, the snotty ones? We'll show them!" I hear footsteps, shouts, confusion, slamming doors. I start running. It's getting lower and lower, and at the same time more beautiful, I'd even say more elegant and warmer. Also, more courtrooms with similar decor. Doors, corridors, chairs, light, material, and courtrooms always somewhere to the right of the corridor. And suddenly, behind another door, a spiral staircase. Almost like a ladder, steep and winding, and even made of steel, like something you'd see at the beginning. Sweating, holding on to the railing, I run down a dozen turns and stop in front of a figure sitting calmly at a table, seemingly waiting. Waiting for me. I catch my breath and swallow hard.Then stairs, doors, a corridor upholstered in some soft material, and a chair. Stairs, corridor, light, chair, material, but this time softer, and from this corridor, an additional door through which I peer, and behind which lies a courtroom. A courtroom. Tall chairs and everything in the warm, burgundy color of material enveloping everything. I close it quietly, and as I descend the next staircase, I hear, "What are they thinking, the snotty ones? We'll show them!" I hear footsteps, shouts, confusion, slamming doors. I start running. It's getting lower and lower, and at the same time more beautiful, I'd even say more elegant and warmer. Also, more courtrooms with similar decor. Doors, corridors, chairs, light, material, and courtrooms always somewhere to the right of the corridor. And suddenly, behind another door, a spiral staircase. Almost like a ladder, steep and winding, and even made of steel, like something you'd see at the beginning. Sweating, holding on to the railing, I run down a dozen turns and stop in front of a figure sitting calmly at a table, seemingly waiting. Waiting for me. I catch my breath and swallow hard.

"Mom..." I say contritely. "What are you doing here?

" "I'm waiting," he replies, and now I notice he's doing some calculations.

"What are you calculating?

" "See, multiply this by this and add that to three times the sum, and you get paranoia. It's amazing how simple it is." He smiles at me with tired eyes.

"Oh...

" "Don't worry, it's completely curable and I think even..." He doesn't finish, because a door opens from the side and a woman with a very professional expression steps out. She's holding a pair of muzzles.

"Good morning," he says. "

Good morning," my mother replies, and seeing her about to cuff me, adds, "It's paranoia."

"Oh, that's fine," and she walks away. It's just me and Mom. Mom and me. And these calculations, which clearly show paranoia. Very obvious. Paranoia, Mom and me. Absolutely clear. Absolutely.