There is fighting in a small dry town. The sliding metal door of a truck trailer rolls up to reveal a horde of children that have been taught to fight. They are there to fight me, & my fellow townspeople, but they don’t know why, & we don’t know why, & I don’t know who “we” are. The children attack us. People are running all over the town. There are children pulling apart cars. It feels like somewhere poor; the roads are unpaved, people wear ragged clothing, the town is falling apart.

I find someone who has been tied up by the children to a rectangular metal structure—like the steel skeleton of an old bed. The man is positioned so that he faces the ground at a 45-degree angle. There is puke underneath him. It is his puke. He is my friend. I untie him.

I find the man who has taught the children to fight & confront him. I tell him the children don’t want to fight for him; that I myself have seen them crying & hiding in corners. The man doesn’t like me saying all this. He takes a swing at me & we get into a fistfight & punch each other’s faces.