Everthing was about John Wick

I dreamed I was John Wick, with Keanu Reeves's face and all. I accidentally killed the son of an Italian mafia boss. This guy was fat, short and bald, with a striped suit, purple and white, chain and gold and cigar in his mouth, more like a cartoon stuff. 

The place was full of narrow streets, houses crammed on top of each other and several dead ends. They were not ugly houses, it was just very dark and confusing. I was running away from about 30 guys armed with every kind of heavy weaponry you can carry, same as Call of Duty.




They looked like military men, big and strong, with shaved heads, but they were shouting things in Italian (my brain must have remembered the little Italian he knows). I skipped walls, roofs, and fences, fleeing dogs, trying not to get the residents' attention. One of the soldiers found me and we fought. He stabbed my right shoulder, feeling the pain and seeing it sink into my body.

I woke up, scared and went to the bathroom. 

When I returned, the dream continued and I had become a small blond boy who lived in one of the houses. I watched the soldiers pass me as I watched their rush through the streets. One of them stopped, looked deep into my eyes and asked me if I had not seen a man in a black suit running around. I said I didn't know what he was saying. The boy's father I had become had left the house and shouted at the man to leave me alone.

When I entered the house, I suddenly grew up. Now I was a blond man, about 30 years old. I was absurdly tired, but I had to run because John Wick was after me. There were a few more people there, a woman who was apparently my girlfriend, some guys who were my friends, and two seniors. 

The place had become the house where I had spent my childhood, but with its very refined and chic exterior, in a beautiful neighborhood full of flowers and trees.



I watched John's black car approach the wall, accompanied by several jeeps with those same military men.


When they broke down the door, the place became a cemetery. The shooting was so intense that the bodies were shattered on the floor, but I had no time to think about it: John Wick was coming after me, killing all my friends one by one. Only one survived, a big, bald guy like Vin Diesel. 

Getting out was difficult, I had to shoot about 17 people, the head of one of them exploded in front of me, the brain running down the wall. When we fled, we caught one of the jeeps in front of the house and drove as far as we could. 

We ended up in the middle of the desert. As we were hungry, we robbed a truck stop. We just got food, water and gas, nothing more. When we went to see one of the trucks had followed us: John Wick was the driver, but he was blond, fat and hairy. 

The last scene I can remember was seeing my jeep blown away and turning into a fireball on the road.