Quickly, almost exponentially, people begin to fill the room as if they belong. Many of these bystanders I had never seen, including a blond dude with a black eye--he tries explaining to me his purpose for being here, as well as his relation to Track Pi. He then goes over to the center of a small crowd. People are circling around him and a large man who are both preparing to fight. The commotion and noise worries me as I don’t want an RA to barge in and see that I had been drinking, so I try to calm everyone down one-by-one. However, the situation gets too big for me to handle, and I become scared that I was losing my grip on reality (I rationalized earlier that my encounter with the hooded figure was a dream).
I go over to Crap Kit for help, though he’s covered in glitter and having a great time. I plead with him to tell me whether I am in a dream or not, he is trying but still seems confused. But then, I remember to check my watch (this is my subconscious method for seeing if I am dreaming: if my watch is incomprehensible, then yes; if not, then no). I pull it out, and it reads 1:25 in its normal format, which puts me at ease as I know now that I am no longer in a dream.
Suddenly, a flash of white hits me. I feel that I have broken the dream world. I see blurs of white and red. I force my eyes open.
