"Next, that doll began to sew its own belly, crooked and twisted, just like the stitches I did during the day. I even began to wonder if it was because I didn't sew the doll properly during the day that I was having such a dream. It really proves the saying, 'Your day's thoughts become your night's dreams,'" Zhang Qingyu said with a self-deprecating laugh.
"Right, and next, didn't that doll start picking up worms from the ground and stuffing them into its mouth? And since its mouth was sewn shut, all those worms turned into a sticky slime?" I tentatively asked Zhang Qingyu. If that was the case, then there was definitely something wrong with this dream.
"How did you know?" Zhang Qingyu's mouth gaped open in disbelief.
"Cough cough, I... I just guessed."
"You're too incredible, to even guess what I dreamed about," he said.
