I dreamt that I was a member of a gang. Several of us were walking through deserted streets of a sprawling suburb late at night. It looked like Houston or Dallas, Texas. On a mission of some kind, we were spread quite far apart. I remember that two young men were some distance ahead of me. An old man, also a gang member, was somewhere in between us. As we were walking under a wide overpass, he pulled out a gun and aimed at the two men in front of us. He aimed for a long time, but he never pulled the trigger. In the end, he put the gun back in his pocket. I also remember joining the two young men somewhat later and wondering whether to tell them about the old man’s attempt. After much deliberation, I did not. They must have some accounts to settle, I reckoned. We just walked in silence. The old man fell behind us, and the dream faded away. I was quite puzzled by it when I woke up in the middle of the night. It connected to nothing in my experience. It did not make much sense, either. Another man’s dream once again. It took me a while to fall sleep again.