I dreamt I was a model maker from the subcontinent, shaping tiny heads and torsos with my nimble fingers while some junior developer's assistant incessantly checked his watch from the doorway of my workroom. I looked down into the assembly of cardboard, clay, and glue on my desk and in so doing became one of the figures in the model. Walking across the black granite tiles of some corporate cafeteria, the thin population of figures pay no attention as I glide by in slow motion. I reach the reception desk, and when confronted with the strange scene in front of me I can't remember what I came for, "can you direct me to the elevator?" I hear myself ask. Instead, I find I'm seated at a time share presentation, the host keeps reminding me that I must sit still in order to receive my complimentary lobster. I don't like the sound of this so I head back through the lobby where a man with his back to me converses with another man whose face I can't see. Finally, I think I've found the elevator, but when my eyes finally start to focus properly I'm just standing in the corner of a hallway that doesn't lead anywhere. Later on, I will meet my wife for drinks on our poolside terrace.
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