I find myself in a dusty street, at the boarder crossing of Egypt and some unknown country.
There is no formality to the crossing, but the street swarms with Egyptian police. They wear blue uniforms and turbans - I have confused Egyptians and Sikhs.
I walk into a gutted shop. It is a refuge from the bustling streets despite not having doors or windows. I lie down and try to sleep.
A noise disturbs me. A policeman is approaching. I am afraid and raise a hand to acknowledge him. He looks down at me and says, "Thou shall not lionize an empty building."
I apologize and leave. In the crowded streets again, I wonder - what the hell did he mean by that?
A sense of having averted disaster overcomes me. I want to find the policeman and thank him profusely.
As I look back to the store I notice my mother. She is wearing a beautiful dress - she might be going to an opera. Many men are talking to her. I walk up next to her and announce myself with a sigh. She is surprised to see me.
We are walking up the street now. Her car is parked at the corner. It is black and looks expensive - everything about her looks expensive and eligant. We both go for the passenger door, and I think, 'oh, they drive on the other side here'. I open the door and find her handbag and documents on the seat.
I stare at the strap of her handbag - a golden chain. The chain links are alive and writhing.
Then I woke up.