It was sunset, and the clear air reflected the sky burned by the setting sun. Old Yorkson and I walked out of an old pioneer-style house.

The so-called pioneer house is an old-fashioned house with rough layout and stupid materials. It is widely used in wilderness development activities and pays attention to the use of local materials. The nouveau riche will add various accessories after the completion of this big house.

The vulgar and vulgar decoration adds a touch of ridiculous vulgarity to the ugliness.

But when I walked out of the house, I knew that it was not a luxurious place. On the contrary, Caiyi had seen this type of building, just because the owner did not want to waste time on the details. What he needed was a building that was strong enough and reliable.

A shelter used to store countless and taboo knowledge.

The master of this knowledge is the bald old man next to me.

Just like the tapering spire at the top of the house, it will turn into a looming dark shadow under the night. This guy with extraordinary knowledge also transformed into a ghost walking in the world at this moment.

"Don't be curious, this is the scene I restored in my dream. About three days before the town was destroyed, the ominous atmosphere had spread throughout the town. And the original me should have been trapped in the house, unable to move, and could only rely on

Letters and Browning's help allowed limited communication with the outside world."

When he said this, I looked curiously at a middle-aged man in front of me wearing old-style police officer clothes. He rushed out of the room where the police station was located in a panic, and passed straight through my body, as if he and I were both.

A phantom that does not exist in the world.

Old Yorkson nodded and said: "That's Browning, a poor lucky guy. He didn't understand the situation from beginning to end, but this is also the magic weapon for his survival."

I looked at the real bricks, tiles and vegetation nearby and asked, "Why can't these people see us?"

Old Yorkson lowered the brim of his hat: "I built this town with my own hands. I know every plant and tree in my heart, and there is no pressure to restore it. But if human actions are controlled by dreams, then I want to show it to you.

Their memories have become arbitrary fictions. Therefore, I can only let them follow their original trajectory and not have any intersection with us."

At this time, I suddenly thought of a question: "But the deep diver outside is still struggling. If we have been dreaming for too long, will we be attacked by him after he regains his mobility?"

This is also my biggest worry. I always worry about not killing the monster. There is a monster next to the bed, how can I sleep soundly?

The cold expression on Old Yorkson's face showed a unique determination.

"In the last years of my life, I have mastered the method of crossing the dream gate through occult research, and relied on dreams to completely monitor this town. This is also the reason why I can construct this dream. We are now in my original place.

In the beautiful dreamland beneath the white dreamland, one hour outside is equivalent to a week here."

Inception?! He can master such taboo knowledge?

It seems to be said in that movie that one hour in the first level of reality is equivalent to twelve hours in the dream, and one hour in the second level of reality is equivalent to about one week in the dream.

Further down there are the third and fourth levels of dreams, and the time is also getting longer.

The fourth level is an extremely unstable dream state, which is very close to the edge of the subconscious. One hour is about 15 years.

If you reach the deepest part of a dream, it is the edge of the most terrifying subconscious. Once you fall into it, one second may be equivalent to a week, or it may be 50 years, and you may never wake up again. It is very likely that you will fall into an endless dream.

Old Yorkson accurately read my thoughts again, and said coldly: "Don't worry, I can't help nor am I willing to take you to the subconscious level. We are in the second level of dreams you mentioned, and I

It is called a beautiful dream, which is a stable dream that can fully embody real matter and can be properly integrated into fantasy."

He walked in front and said without looking back: "I just want to introduce to you the total length of 12 hours, about 2 minutes of outside time. The monster you are worried about will never recover."

"Okay, then I'm relieved." I said easily, "I kind of believe you are Old Yorkson now. What are you going to tell me? About Father Hook?"

"Little Hook? Let's start with him."

Old Yorkson quickly took two steps forward and opened the door of the next door.

Although the times have changed and I have gone back to the timeline of people who are completely strangers to me, I can still see that Old Yorkson lived where Mayor Thomas later lived, and the police station has always been the police station in these decades.

,never change.

When I opened the door of the detention room, I saw an unkempt and depressed young man.

"He is Little Hook, the Daddy Hook you call."

Old Yorkson walked up to him, blocking the sight of young Hooker who was staring blankly. He passed his arm through his body and pointed to an old book on the table.

"On the first day he was arrested, I gave him an important task."

…………

"Unknown Diary"

(The time is unknown, recorded in the paragraph on the blank page.)

I have long known that only weirdness can defeat weirdness. But the knowledge I have mastered has completely lost its effect at this time.

The meme of "Final Disaster" spread rapidly across this land, spreading at an unimaginable and terrifying speed. There must have been some loophole in my previous plan, which caused it to cleverly get out of control when I was at my weakest.

But no one must have thought that at the end of my body being corroded by forbidden knowledge, I actually transcended matter, passed through the door of dreams, watched everything indifferently in my sleep, and prepared the final plan. (This has been edited and cannot be discerned.

handwriting, but should be a person’s name.)

The most ridiculous thing is that my last and most powerful weapon comes from my enemy.

In the study of memes, I have mastered part of the knowledge about the generation and spread of memes. Although I cannot be as invisible and formless as the "final disaster", I can still achieve it by cleverly combining language, characters and holy seals to form

My own unique meme.

The theoretical breakthrough and successful imitation of memes are completely carried out behind the door of dreams, transcending all matter and consciousness, and are only based on personal "reality". This is invisibly consistent with the "ultimate disaster" sleeping

The original environment that gave birth to memes…

I hope to hand over this task to Little Hooker. As my biggest opponent, I am afraid that only he can understand what I am doing.

The shot that ends everything will be loaded into the chamber of my gun by "Final Disaster", and Little Hook will pull the trigger for me...

In an environment surrounded by enemies, only the real enemy can support me? This is really a cleverly reversed fable, and it is also a bitter irony of my manipulative behavior in the first half of my life.

time is limited……

How to have eternal life will be the final work of my remaining time...

(In this independent diary, a large number of metaphors and pronouns appear. Most researchers believe that this is a pungent political article, recording a desperate political struggle. However, a small number of researchers believe that it contains

The dream door is indeed a real thing, and it is a bold exploration of mysticism.
Chapter completed!