In this dystopian dream, the setting resembled a post-apocalyptic world under tight control, much like North Korea. Toxic fumes filled the air outside designated safe zones and leaving required wearing upgraded masks, as prolonged exposure without them would lead to a decline in health. The city was heavily monitored with spies everywhere, and resources, including money, were scarce. Leaving the confines of this controlled environment was strictly forbidden unless you held a position of high authority.
One night, my sister ventured out but ran low on mobile data. I rushed to a call centre, hoping to help her. A woman working there initially agreed to assist but demanded money in return. Distraught, I called my sister in tears, telling her I couldn’t afford it. Out of pity, the woman relented and gave me the data for free, despite the tough times we were all facing.
Life outside was a constant battle. The small, heavily guarded city was surrounded by toxic areas, where protective masks were a necessity. I noticed that many people wore upgraded versions, as the fumes were growing more dangerous by the day.
I went out to gather firewood and other resources, feeling like I was in a game like Minecraft. Our shelter was large with high ceilings, almost three stories tall, but consisted of just one main floor and a single large room. My family and I slept on mattresses in the living room near the entrance, without the comfort of bed frames.
The house embodied the tension between survival and maintaining a semblance of comfort. Though we seemed to be relatively well-off, we still had to work like everyone else, venturing outside to gather what we could. Each time one of us went outside, we feared the worst: would they return safely?
The dream vividly portrayed the suffocating reality of living in an oppressive regime, where survival was a daily struggle and stepping outside came with unimaginable risks.