I dreamt that I was traveling with my No. 1 son, but I do not remember where we were going. All I remember is that we went through Los Angeles. In my dream, he looked like he did a few years ago, when he visited me for the last time. We slept in a hotel right next to the airport, and he left the hotel ahead of me. A short while later, he sent me a mobile-phone text-message that it was time for me to join him. When I came to the airport, I realized it would not be easy to find him. It was huge. It looked rather like a city. I remember enormous shopping malls one after another. I tried to call him on my mobile phone, but it was just ringing and ringing. After a while, I got connected to the telephone company in Zagreb, where my mobile phone was registered. I explained where I was and who I was trying to call, and they promised to do whatever they could to locate my son. I woke up before we connected. It was morning already. I have not dreamt of international airports for quite a while. The dream reminded me of so many dreams of getting separated from people and my efforts to find them again. They usually involved people close to me, such as my parents and my children. Dreams of this ilk seemed to have become history, but I was wrong. The Los Angeles airport, which I last visited some twenty years ago, was a nightmare.