昨夜梦到东村的老厝，在我出生的那间平房蓝色的瓷砖变得深不见底，我潜到下面发现好多从未见过的生物，像海底世界，到了海的最底层看见糖果一样大小的牛羊，和四只脚滑的很快像小鱼群一样的老鼠。陆面上的动物都缩小至少十倍的比例。当我一口气回到上面时，房间变成很多窗但是没有门的高楼，上面是一个荒芜的世界，空气干燥，除了人类还是人类，还有人造植被。突然一个女人晕倒在地上，然后出现两个穿白色衣服剃着寸头的年轻男子过来一边说她不能在这里领取免费的葡萄糖救济，一边将她拖走，走到窗边的时候他们不小心松了手那个女人从窗台那里掉了下去，我没有声音的尖叫了一下然后就开始哭，那两个人向我表示这是没办法的事情。
Last night I dreamed of the old house in East Village. In the bungalow where I was born, the blue tiles had become a bottomless pool. I dove down and found myself in a strange underwater world, teeming with creatures I had never seen before. At the very deepest floor of the sea, there were cows and sheep the size of candy, and four‑legged rats that darted about like a shoal of fish. Every animal on land had shrunk to at least a tenth of its original size.

When I finally swam back up in one breath, the room had transformed into a towering building with countless windows but no doors. Above was a desolate world, its air dry and still, inhabited only by humans—humans and nothing else—save for artificial plants.

Then, a woman collapsed to the ground. Two young men in white, their hair cropped short, appeared and said she could not receive free glucose relief here. They dragged her toward the window, but as they reached it, their grip slipped. She fell from the windowsill.

I screamed without a sound, and then I cried. The two men looked at me and said there was nothing they could do.