That was a fearfulness dream that I ever had. Those scenery ain't bloody, ain't violence. Somehow a tough feeling that pushed me to recall back that dream hardly becos it was just meant a lot, perhaps. I was about couching. I heard so much whispering of I'm going to die or something relevant to death. Cos of my sickness or what? I don't really remember, after-all my dreams weren't always complete. The other scene was taking place on behalf of lying on the couch, it was like displacing to a scene that I attempted to talk to anybody else. They didn't reply. I was downright fearing of that I was being treated transparency. I talked and talked again, no one was bothering me even my loved one. But the only thing which not totally deplorable that suddenly appeared a favourable turn was they felt me, that someone was talking to them. They tried to figure out. But they were still no seeing me. I died, in that dream, I confirmed that. There's no more reason to let me insist of clarifying my live. I sat in my loved's car. From the back-mirror, I can still remember his glance, his expression, which trying to set me alive or mourning for me. I started to cry, all the tears falling beneath his love. Although that was just a dream, but it wasn't insubstantial one, it feels real.