I was shot three times: twice in the chest and once in the head. It didn't hurt, I just resigned myself to the fact that I would die then. I didn't die though. I thought, 'This is pretty strange.' But I was worried that he might shoot me again if he saw I was still alive, so I pretended to be dead. But my patience ran out and I got up and went about my business. I didn't see him again.
Then last night I dreamt that three people were throwing rocks at me. That didn't hurt either. After some time they stopped throwing their rocks at me and came over. One was a beautiful naked girl with tattoos across her collarbone; she was smiling at me and somehow assured me that it wasn't really anything, those rocks. She moved against me and I touched her, but she giggled and pushed me away.