Room number 60

Another dream recap.

——————————————————————————————————————-

It was a drawing exam.
In a class that looked just like my classes back in the elementary school.

We used crayon. We scratched like crazy.
The time was unmercifully limited. And running out.

I drew something so big and so badly proportioned and awfully calculated that I need additional paper to draw on.

“But there’s no blank drawing paper left,” the teacher said. And he didn’t even try to seek for another paper. He was rather indifferent.

I panicked.

But then a college friend I just recently get acquainted to handed me his drawing paper.

“You can draw on the back side,” he said.

And so I did.

The time is up. I collected my drawing (and my friend’s) to the front.

After I got out of the class, I just remembered that I forgot to staple (or sellotape) my two separate drawings.

I just wasted one’s kindness with my foolishness.

——

I reached my dorm, was going to take a bath.

But the electricity was on shortage, so we couldn’t use the shower.

I decided to use a teaspoon to dip the water in order to take the bath

And so did other girls

But there was this girl who borrowed my bathroom, and insisted on using the shower
It apparently was on, functioning properly
And we felt so foolish, wondering why didn’t we try to turn it on

It took awhile for her to take bath. But then it got a little too much awhile. And then too much.
Too long that we wondered what on earth took her that long.

And we knocked on the door. There was no answer.
We knocked harder. Still no answer.

We knocked like crazy.
We screamed for the dorm’s guardian to brought us the spare key.
He couldn’t find it.
We eventually smashed the door.

Room number 60 was not exactly a room.
Its door led directly to a bathroom. But what we found in it startled us more.

The girl was lying on the floor, with face downward, inert. Electrocuted. 
Her long black hair moving in rhythm, according to the flow of water emerging from the shower.
We smelled odour of burnt things. There was burn marks on the glimpse of her face that was visible to our eyes without turning back her corpse. From which the red thick blood kept dripping
and dripping
and dripping…….

dissolving with the flowing water…..

—————————————————

Woken up, I was terrified.
For 60 is the number of my dorm room.

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