Dreaming; the hostage-takers throw me before a woman I’ve never met. She asks, “How is trans adolescence treating you?” as she points a Kalashnikov rifle at my chest.
I breathe a silent, desperate reply – and find myself gasping in bed.
Then my life continues. A pleasant clockwork, checklists and procedures, hypotheses at the forefront of my mind, crowding out anything else. Any dreams or whatever.