Hours since I got up this morning, I am still followed by scraps of dreams from last night. I cannot remember much of what I have dreamt, except that all my dreams revolved around a sudden burst in car import from Russia. There was something special about Russian cars. They came together with some sort of shelter from inclement weather. It was meant for vast prairies that cover much of the country. The shelter could be erected quickly with the help of straightforward instructions. It was made from large animal bones, some of which were occasionally replaced by thick aluminum rods. One way or another, it was discovered that the bones and aluminum rods were worth a mint, and the cars were sought mainly because of them. The cars themselves were of inferior quality, and their main value was in the materials from which they were made. All my dreams had a nightmarish quality, for I was doing my best to get out of the racket that swiftly developed around the car import. Throughout the night I was vaguely aware that I had overindulged in the roast lamb that I had for dinner. Actually, I have been overindulging in this delicacy for at least a week.