I dreamt that Natasha and I were visiting Pasha, but for some reason, he lived in Riga. Katya T. and Tanya lived there too. I wanted to take a bath. I turned on the tap and went to chat. I forgot that I'd left the water running. When I came to my senses, it turned out the liquid had already covered the floor in a twenty-centimeter layer. I bailed it out with a scoop, and figured I'd bailed myself out of the incident (pun intended). The proof was that through the cracks between the bathroom floor tiles, underfloor lighting was visible. I figured that if the water had flooded the neighbors too badly, it surely would have short-circuited. On the other hand, isn't there weatherproof lighting and electrical wiring?
Alas, literally minutes later, the doorbell rang. I opened it with a bad feeling. And for good reason. A whole crowd of neighbors was standing outside. They were handing me "homeowner booklets," small documents with lined pages. I was supposed to sign there, acknowledging that a leak had occurred. The neighbors were polite, but it sounded very suspicious when they said this signature didn't obligate me to anything. Like it was just a formality to register the fact itself. I didn't sign. The apartment wasn't mine anyway, and overall I didn't want to put my signature on something without knowing what it meant.
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