I dreamt that I found myself in a world that had suffered some horrible disaster. Low clouds made the light dim. Everything was cracked, smashed into smithereens, even pulverized. Nothing was whole, round, or smooth. It was a world of bits and pieces from which little of any value could be retrieved any longer. There were few colors left in that broken world. I remember desolate landscapes without anything to catch and keep my eye’s attention. But I also remember that everyone I met in that world was quite cooperative. Although not particularly friendly, they were always ready to lend a hand. Wherever I went, I felt safe, too. Amid the flattened ruins, there were no thieves or thugs left. There was nothing threatening in that world. The desolation was almost comfortable.