It was a dream. One of those ones in colour, that you remember just after you wake up. One that I sat bolt upright in bed and searched for anything I could use to write down what had happened. Turns out I should definitely keep a notepad and a pen by my bed, as a kohl eyeliner on a magazine doesn't really work. In the end I used my phone, and furiously punched in the keys, composing a rather unusual text and hoping I didn't add a contact and press send in my sleepy state.
The situation in the dream hadn't been very clear; I was an inventor- or similar- and my fellow inventor had scoffed at my absolutely genius idea (cant quite remember what that was now...) but I'd cried and cried, running down a corridor and locking myself in the bathroom. Dreams are never quite as exciting when you re-tell them, are they? So I'll leave it at this: My dream ended when a man I didn't recognise came to comfort me, and knocking on the locked bathroom door, he gave me some advice, that made me feel at peace.
And his words are what I wrote: