Railway Station

I had a complex dream sequence last night. First, I was in a magnificent waiting room and I was ushered into the presence of a powerful, richly dressed king. He was seated at a business desk and in the process of writing a check for one million baht. He said to me, "I'm leaving the addressee blank. You can either pay the foundation, or yourself." 

I knew it made no difference because virtually every penny that comes my way somehow ends up working for the foundation anyway .... I woke up. 

When I went back to sleep, I was trying to tell people about my dream (this was in another dream!), but they wouldn't believe me ... not even my mother. 

Then I suddenly found myself in a huge — railway station of some kind — in the company of a group of travelling musicians. We were all journeying towards the place where we would perform. There was a huge communications system in the station with mouthpieces scattered around the station, connected by a system of tubes. They were information systems; you speak into the mouthpiece and an answer comes out.

The musicians have been testing the machine's ability to speak Turkish and they all told me it's not good. "Maybe it's having a problem with your Uighur accent," I tell the main musician who oddly enough appears to be Daniel Draganov who as far as I know speaks German, Czech, and maybe Russian. 

I tell him, "I've picked up some Turkish from watching this miniseries, but it's only useless words like "hünkârim" and I wouldn't have anyone I could actually address as such. Although I've also figured out that çok means 'very'." 

We pass through very narrow alleys. I wonder why we have to walk, why the organizers of the concert didn't send a car. Suddenly the alley opens out and there is an angular grassy slope that leads straight to an ocean of incredible blueness. Our goal is on the opposite shore.

I wake up.