I dreamt that I was watching a woman change her shoes on the hotel terrace. In her late fifties but dressed as though she was a couple of decades younger, she was sitting a few tables away from me. She took her sandals out of her purse and put her shoes into it. Her feet were bare, but two of her toes on the left foot were missing. Only one of the three joints remained on each of them. Her feet were on the big and burly side, and her toenails were painted bright red, which only accentuated the missing toes. She had the big toe, the toe next to it, and the little toe. The stubs of the missing toes were most conspicuous in her sandals. On occasion they wriggled, too. I remember being fascinated by the whole thing. I was most eager to ask the woman about the way in which she had lost two of her toes, but I woke up before I learned anything. Anyhow, the woman’s feet are etched into my mind’s eye, and especially the missing toes. A dream to remember, to be sure.