* The Sandman's Dream Journal o/***

I was in Mexico. I was moving there. At first there was some problem, but then it seemed to be working out OK.

I ran through some mud that went up my ankle a little higher than ankle socks. Then I was spitting mud out of my mouth. I kept spitting out more and more.

Eventually I was in a building trying to get out. Twice I ended up looking into someone's hotel room, but it was as though everything was connected, so I just passed their room that I was half way in, as I was trying to find an exit.

A couple times I wondered why I was in Mexico in the first place.