I dreamt I was at McDonald’s with my first son, who was about ten at the time. Judging by the language everyone around us spoke, we were in the States. The restaurant was in a tall building with huge decorative stairways. American rococo was everywhere in sight. Reaching the entrance to the restaurant was a feat. I remember climbing up a very steep ramp leading to a formidable wooden doorway. The ramp was made of polished red granite. It was sculpted, too. Those who could not get to the door or reach the high doorhandle would slide down the ramp, their bodies limp from exhaustion. Much of the way to the restaurant was very steep. We were squeezed from all sides by throngs of kids and grownups wearing baseball caps. Everyone around us was grim, jabbering away in a nasal drawl. I remember getting stuck in the crowd. At some point, my son and I could not move at all. We were pinned to the ramp. By the time we reached the restaurant counters, it was impossible to place an order because of the crushing multitudes. I woke up before we got anything to eat, but I remember losing hope even before I woke up. The trouble was I could not figure out how we could get out of that hell. I rarely have nightmares, but this was a nightmare all round, starting with McDonald’s.