Turmoil.

So we set off on our expedition, not knowing where exactly we were going, or how long it would take. The next moment i was there, seeming almost magical i was told we have arrived. Driving wildly across what seemed like an endless field. I questioned the driver as to why they were driving in such a manner, their reply was that this field was perfectly flat.

Out of the vehicle and standing at the edge of the field, everything was so peaceful. Stars in the night sky, a moonlit green field and a sense of calmness i haven't felt for a long time. I was with an old school friend, he brought out a camera, a camera i never knew he had. Looking through the files i saw photos, these were photos of old memories i had. Ones from when i was young, ones from when i was at school, and ones that were only recent, but a few minor details had changed.

A small boy walked up to us, stating he couldn't find his home. We asked him where he lived, he replied saying that he lived in the house behind the trees. Shortly after, the boy disappeared.

Things were starting to get strange, things did not seem right. Jumps in time, incorrect photos or memories. It was as if i was in a strangle new world. It seemed i had been taken, and they have tried to recreate my memories, but missed the little details. I was in a new world which enabled people to time travel and teleport.

In a new place again, it was more familiar than the last, it was near my old house. With someone i knew, it was my brother. But there were a lot of 'people' there, and we were on a motorbike. He said "If you drive through them they won't feel it." Trusting his judgement, i drove through the group, he was right! I could drive through them and they would not feel a thing. There were more of these groups, so i continued to drive through them. I was starting to enjoy it, but these 'people' were not, they learned that sticks could be a weapon, that they could swing them at me.

Quickly riding off, i was in another unfamiliar place running errands for a group of bikies. Not knowing how i got there, or how they got me helping them, i continued to help in the hope they would not hurt me. Turmoil began to arise amongst the groups members, i was worried. I was also lacking my hat, the hat in my box was not my hat. Someone had stolen it, the leader of the bikies questioned a certain member who he knew was wearing a different hat on the day. Knowing he was wrong he fled on his bike, for hours we searched until we found him in a nearby beach town. Everyone took out their anger on the theif, throwing countless amounts of punches and kicks his way. He was beaten, bruised and bleeding. I took my hat back.

Dreams.