“Are the stories in my dreams really fake? And then, is reality really real?” After waking from another terrifying dream, I went to see a psychologist. The moment I saw him, I anxiously asked him. In my dreams, I died again and again. She smiled at me and said, “You can’t escape. You’re about to join me.” The psychologist looked to be in his twenties and seemed to be from Shaanxi, judging by the way he spoke, half standard Mandarin and half Shaanxi dialect. He told me, “Oh, oh, oh, it’s no big deal. So what you need to do is go to the neurology department at the Second People’s Hospital, sign up for an appointment, and get some sleeping pills. Take a couple when you get home and you’ll be fine. Come on, let’s have one.”
Me: “…” You don’t care whether I can understand you, do you?
In a nutshell, the story is about a woman who works odd jobs across thousands of worlds to earn money and support her mother.
