Lucid Matrix

Date: 6/11/2017

I was in this really snowy city. it was obviously being controlled by some omniscient being. My texts wouldn't go through to their proper recipient, but all of us were all incredibly powerful. I could snap my hand into a phone shape and call the person I just drove past, or blink from place to place. Not everyone had full control of their power yet. I don't know why we were constantly being monitored, but I was very much against it. And someone kept tapping me every time I blinked somewhere. Like despite being powerful, they were still better than me. I was running from the omniscient being. In buildings, through an outdoor balcony of a mall, eventually down through a hole in the ground into clear water. This sex goddess pulled an equally attractive woman in before I followed, and asked me to join. She said I could do anything, including have prolonged endurance. I shrugged it off and went through the door in the room. I was captured, though I'm not sure how. I started to be dragged off through a hospital on a restraining board. I was being escorted by two large guys and a lady in a suit. She was preparing a needle designed to wipe my memory. I was okay with this, but I snatched the pen/needle from her and asked her, "Will this stain my dress shirt?" I was wearing a white shirt with ruffles. She replied no and I proceeded to stab my left arm with the needle. It blurs to the next scene, and I got a text from Renee (whom I know in real life.) "I have a cold brew next to me here for you." Followed up by a call from an unknown caller. When I picked it up, some female operator answered and Renee spoke through, "Hey, I know it's been two or three months since you told me, but I like you too. It's okay if you don't come, just don't run off with Nele." I hung up the phone without saying anything, and turned to the girl on the couch behind me to tell her I was going to be going out for dinner. She told me she wanted to stay, but I insisted on leaving. In another sort of blur cut-to, I was training with a guy in a black karate garb (in the same living room I was standing in while I was on the phone.) I don't remember what I did, but some overhead voice responded, "It's okay, writers are immortal. He won't die."