Dream About Mountain And Game Avatar

Being on a low mountain, looking down at the city and the surrounding scapes from the woods near the top canopy The One-Night Castle ruins built by the Toyotomi’s force in their attempt to trick and shatter the Hojo clan’s morale I’ve already climbed to the top Being urged and pushed down the path because the pursuers are coming and we are not safe Tuatha De Danann, night in the Celtic woods, sounds of owl, croaking frogs and crickets Scene changes and now I’m on a tile of game map; flat surface and I’m watching my own avatar move from above and aside(third-person point of view) The sky is made of paper and is sort of gray(and dark yellow, like before the storm/hurricane), everything in the backdrop is cut out of paper, pretty collages and marble chess tiles, mainly white, black, brass and rose red/magentas, very basilica-esque And as the avatar I’m carrying and convversing with my younger brother, who had grown significantly compared to how he was the last time I saw him in real life; in this dream he’s around fifteen or so All the conversations I have with him come into my head like in-game dialogues while I run around outside in this beautiful gothic-lolita papier-mâché world and into some other scenes(game level) It looks like a mix of Stazione Centrale di Milano, Station of St. Lucia of the Venezia, some cathedral or a basilica, Vigrid station from the first Bayonetta, the blend of new and old architectures with still that exquisite, richly sepia-colored feel to it all We are having conversations about how mom is and our opinions on her; he’d been living with her for a bit after the divorce before he was taken into the state’s custody, and I’d known her and lived with her most of my life till the divorce He tells me how during her pregnancy(while he was in her womb), she would go on sometimes about how unreliable and absent(emotionally, physically or psychologically) her husband(our father) ‘because of work’ and ‘all the things that he had gone through’, clearly being at least a bit remorseful and bitter about it but still clinging on We(mainly he) calmly point out how despite knowing that the man was no good when it came to those important matters of heart and one’s development psychologically, she didn’t do anything that’d actually help and ended up clinging onto something that would benefit none of us, out of habit(she’s basically been conditioned her whole life to fawn for red flags, narcissists and abusers; by her parents, her family, and then by the schools’ lecherous teachers, and then by her ‘fiancé’s, her sexual assault experience, and her former lovers and the current one(our dad)) Meanwhile we talk, I fdash and sprint across the maps, zooming through the moving bridges and limbo sticks that’s on some gaping bottomless abyss cut right out of the marble structures, infinitely large and situating itself below our feet Once we’re back in the atria(the glass-dorm roofed mercato) we look for a place to eat before the train we’d like to get on leaves Two options among all others stand out: an old, traditional cafe-restaurant, or the new limited time exhibition of some ‘artistic’ cook’s inventions(course meals) We talk about wanting the first one but somehow our asses gravitate toward the newer stand At the table all the other customers(seems to be almost all white, so bougie and pretentious) greet us and carry the conversations while I lightly doze off on my younger beother’s shoulder while he curiously reads the menues and tries to match them by pictures and ingredient lists I’m responding to the Italian locals that are attempting to talk to us in simple, beginner’s level vocalilaries that I barely remember Pasta genovese and some kind of a canned oil-preserved fushes with some sliced and clean raw fishes