I have descended upon a field, with a road running down its center. The fields are green, and there are rolling hills and patches of trees off several hundred meters on both sides of the road. I am in a plane, and yet it is a car. I sometimes fly, while other times I walk. The plane changes size and shape, depending on my whim. Off to the shoulder on the right side there are a row of three, half-buried, old school buses protruding from the earth at an angle, pointing upward. There are people living in the buses.
My plane is now a caravan; a series of campers, trailers and small trucks. My wife, family and friends all live in this caravan, and now the residents from the school buses approach us. I am afraid. One of the residents is a menacing looking man, with razor stubble and tattered clothing. He has a smile on his face which I know quite simply means determination. He does not speak. They board one of our trailers and begin to take my family hostage. They casually commandeer our pots and pans, and the threat is unclear, but I know we’re in trouble. I forcibly confront the leader and tell him he cannot take us, he cannot harm us. He continues his grin and says nothing, taking my wife by the arm. I’m very afraid. He takes her and now they are several yards away from me, and I am feeling helpless.
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