Last night, I dreamt that I ended up in San Francisco. At first I was by the shore, looking up at a mountain and a rustic abandoned castle which I walked up. I had intended to arrive somewhere else, across the ocean, but I only made it across the continent. Whoever I was with, and me decided we should go back to NY. Walking. The most beautiful part was seeing the bridge, because we hadn’t been sure as to where we were before seeing it. We only knew we were still in America. I loved the bridge.
Then my dream changed to me eating pizza in my room. A really huge pizza, the slices being the size of my torso.