I dreamt that I was gabbing about environmental devastation with a man I hardly knew. We were sitting in a pub where we occasionally exchanged greetings, and this was the first time that we said more than a few words to each other. The conversation was slow and not very pointed. Neither of us was really in it. He was not too concerned about the environment, and I was convinced that nothing could be done about its devastation by now. At some point I wanted to tell him something I had just remembered, but he turned the conversation in a slightly different direction. By the time I started to tell him what had come to my mind, I could not remember it any longer. I remember fumbling for words. I even thought of telling him that I had forgotten what I wanted to tell him, but I still had some hope that I could get around to it by talking about something else. And so I went on and on. But the discomfort was strong enough that I was very much aware of it even when I woke up. For some reason, I felt surprised that a dream could come so close to real life when subtle mental processes are concerned. As though dreams are of another world.