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.
It all ended with only the downstairs neighbors submitting a claim for ceiling repairs. They had tiles on their ceiling. They had just realized that tiles were a bad idea when you're getting flooded (I really don't know why). For some reason, the bill was only 2k. Possibly because they wanted to replace their ceiling tiles with linoleum.
I started scratching my head over where to find builders. I told Natasha the story. To which she replied that a bunch of neighbors with booklets seemed highly implausible. Did all of them really get flooded? And anyway, what kind of document even is that? Why don't the two of us have one like that?
Fair point! I'd had my suspicions that it was a dream for a while, and right then I finally saw the light. And that's how critical thinking saved me a couple of thousand dream euros.
I think my subconscious is aware that my downstairs neighbor went away to the seaside in Turkey for two weeks. And is warning me not to wander off and zone out on my phone after turning on the bathroom tap.