A whole morning of classes had passed, and ever since last night’s exploration into the unconscious, unordered random dreams of others, Zhu Zhengwei had turned off his computer in the dormitory at noon and lay on his bed staring aimlessly at the ceiling.
"Tonight, whose dream should I backpack through?"
But he increasingly had an idea:
It’s certainly interesting to enter others’ dreams, but it’s too absurd.
One mont it’s a villa, the next mont it’s a swimming pool, bizarre and colorful.
It’s a chaotic brainstorm, a consciousness activity of the cerebral cortex, where anything can happen.
That’s a normal person’s dream.
But entering one’s own dream?
Might be different.
Perhaps due to his own uniqueness, his dreams might differ from others’ dreams??
What are my dreams like...
Holding onto this increasingly curious thought, during the lunch break, Zhu Zhengwei began to dream again,
Zhu Zhengwei started to sleep.
But he found that once asleep, he didn’t have any "soul’s unconscious surface activity."
"I have no dream? Did I leap over the unconscious surface of dreams?"
As he thought this, looking around, he only felt he was in a sea of endless, deep darkness and fear, akin to a diver constantly swimming at the altitudes of his mind, venturing into an endless deep sea.
Diving down,
Diving down,
Continuing to dive down!
Passing through the water’s surface of the unconscious dream, through the hundred ters ocean sunlit zone, into an area so deep and dark that sunlight couldn’t reach!
Boom!
Deep and dark, reaching out but unable to see anything.
Soon, amidst the complete blackness, he felt he inadvertently bumped against so barrier, a mysterious door of flesh and brain texture, which had already shown cracks.
Pushing it open hard!
The door’s cracks gradually increased, finally breaking apart with a roar.
Bang!
Countless brain matter and neuron cells flew past behind him like teors; mysterious neural tendrils spreading, deeply engraved in the genes suddenly unleashed into the deep sea consciousness world, seemingly penetrated fiercely by himself!
Light!
An endless flash of dazzling white light flooded out from the cracks of the door!
Amidst the blinding light, he instantly entered within, his vision brightened, witnessing the deepest level of human conscious dreamscape never accessed by others.
Boom!
Ti was flowing back.
The era of studying, elentary school ti, nearly blurred childhood tis, even as the images kept flashing by, Zhu Zhengwei found himself astonishingly witnessing the scene of his own birth.
Everything returned to the origin, Zhu Zhengwei saw the very first segnts of his life.
Waa waa waa.
A baby was born in the countryside.
"The baby is born!"
"It’s a boy!"
"Won’t be sickly like the first one, will he!"
"Can’t even afford to raise the first one; if this second one really is sick, we’ll quietly get rid of him, anyways, only a few neighbors know I got pregnant."
...
Amidst the noise, Zhu Zhengwei squatted under the wild grass window outside the house, eavesdropping on this scene, witnessing his birth from the perspective of a bystander.
"What did I just see?" Zhu Zhengwei incredulously widened his eyes, "My birth?"
Besides those legendary hyperthysia sufferers, almost no one can rember the scene of their own birth as a baby.
And yet, I can see it in this deep dreamscape?
But soon, Zhu Zhengwei made a guess:
Dreams are an extension of soul activities; his dreams are "soul’s deep consciousness," recording all mories since birth.
He saw the most fundantal deep consciousness area rooted in his soul, docunting all the information and codes at the roots of his origin, rather than calling it a dream, it could be called the deepest rooted activity space of the soul.
"So this is my parents?"
He looked at his biological parents whom he had never t.
He was an orphan.
Abandoned due to genetic disease.
Had never really felt much for so-called parents, but seeing them in the deep mories indeed evoked a sense of emotion.
Although, he had once fantasized during his adolescent phase that his parents were wealthy people, the ti had co after twenty years, and the young master would return ho.
Zhu Zhengwei calmly observed the ordinary rural couple.
"An ordinary birth, an ordinary family."
"Limited by the tis, limited by dical care, very ordinary abandonnt in that uncultured rural mountain era..."
Zhu Zhengwei watched his birth in the dream.
He waited outside the door for so ti, seized the chance when no one was around, Zhu Zhengwei secretly entered the room.
He watched the swaddled newborn self, this adorable baby who was peacefully sleeping, feeling a strange sense of oddity.
"You’re really pitiful, but your future will be better!"
He suddenly couldn’t help but lift this swaddled infant, raising him high over his head, experiencing an indescribably unprecedented feeling, "My past self, you must strive..."
Whoosh.
Suddenly, he knocked over the pen holder on the shelf, and a pencil fell, its sharpened point poking at the right corner of the baby’s eye.
Blood trickled down the baby’s tender and fair skin at the eye corner, forming a blossom of blood, flowing continuously.
Waa waa!
The infant self suddenly started crying.
Zhu Zhengwei froze, unable to react in ti.
Crack!
The farmhouse lamp suddenly lit up, urgent footsteps approached.
Zhu Zhengwei hurriedly placed the baby back, climbed through the window, and left.
"Damn it! How did the baby get poked by a pencil?" Soon, an angry roar ca from inside the house.
Clatter.
Zhu Zhengwei opened his eyes,
He looked oddly, having returned to the past within the dream, saying motivational but harsh words to his infant self, ending up accidentally poking a pencil...
Cough cough.
Luckily it was just a dream.
"Different from others, my dream is fixed, arguably not a dream, it’s a root mory, involving the soul’s core, completely docunting my past life!"
Poof!
Suddenly, Zhu Zhengwei felt a pain at the corner of his eye.
He painfully covered his eye corner, "Could it be..."
He recalled the pencil stabbing the corner of his eye during his birth in the dream, hurried to the restroom, and shakily lifted his head to look in the mirror. On his gaunt yet resolute face, a tear mole gradually erged below his eye corner, exuding an enchanting, hazy, dreamlike allure.
"My eye corner??"
"A tear mole??"
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