"What do you mean?"
"This dream."
Merkel looked around. This was a clean and tidy Doctor's office. He could tell it was Doctor's office not only because Schiller wore a white coat, but also because of the numerous medical records beside him, the anatomical charts hanging on the wall, and the examination bed at the side of the room.
This place was truly realistic, identical to the offices used by most Doctors Merkel had seen. The images and text on the anatomical charts were clearly visible, the metal reflections on the examination bed's legs mirrored the color of the floor tiles, and every detail here was flawlessly real. It did not seem like a dream at all.
Just moments ago, Merkel had witnessed that absurd scene in the banquet hall, the terrifying black tide and dazzling light. Merkel was a firm materialist. His common sense told him such things could not happen in reality, so there was only one possibility: this was a dream.
The only question was how Schiller had created a dream so real yet absurd, and how he had pulled people into it.
Merkel felt that figuring this out was far more important than his original mission objective. As far as he knew, humanity's research into the brain, consciousness, and dreams was still extremely rudimentary. This would be very important intelligence.
"Haven't you already experienced it?"
"You mean that bottle of wine?"
Schiller nodded and continued, "Of course. But the issue is also here."
He pointed at his own head and said to Merkel, "You should understand that consciousness and dreams are products of the human brain. You need a sufficiently intelligent brain to have enough capacity to run a vast and realistic dream."
"...Brain development?" Merkel had clearly thought of something.
"It seems you are not