memorable

I remember being in some kind of a train that is also a camp of sorts. Not the recreational kind of camp; there's some work involved, and in the end of the year you get a license that potentially increases your employment chances. I realize I have a really bad t-shirt on me, and I don't have any other ones, so my supervisor sends me and a couple of my friends (who are my former classmates IRL) to some "special place" where I can get a new, rad t-shirt. Now the way to get there is through flying train cars. They kind of fly through each other at progressively increasing speed. Each car's door is labeled with a black number on a white square. What this flight amounts to, is that we catch up with a flying huge anvil-like train car. By the time we catch up with it, it stops by some city.
We enter the huge anvil-car, inside is simply a huge pavilion with a wooden floor, with clothes hanging from the walls. Not far inside there's an elevation, so the most of the pavilion is slightly raised, like a theatre stage. There are also two female traders, of Kyrgyz origin. They're kind of tense. I ask if I can get up on the "stage" so that I can examine the goods. The answer is: "No. We've decided to not let any of the customers up". I'm kind of confused because a friend of mine (a girl now?) sits at the table on the stage, sorting through clothes. I ask for a size 4 t-shirt, and, apparently, there's the only one left, an unevenly checkered red and black t-shirt I don't even like. I'm surprised this huge thing doesn't have any more, but still go with it.
We're out of the anvil-car, it departs. We're basically stuck in this city and it's getting dark. Me and two friends of mine (both male now) walk the streets. I ask one of them about how long until the camp work is over and we can go home, he doesn't reply anything coherent. I think to myself: it's October now and we all enlisted last autumn, so we should be free anytime now. I even consider taking a train home, but then realize I don't have enough money, nor do I want to lose the license I would otherwise get. Now my friend thinks about somewhere we can stay: it's either "3X" or "XXX", both of those places are apparently unofficial bordellos. I'm not really keen on the idea, but he says we can stay there overnight since there's not much choice. We enter a tenement, then my friends enter an apartment. I stand in the doorway: I see a lot of girls in bikinis in there, and I also hear the friend who suggested this place talking to the host of the place. The host seems displeased. I walk out in the street.
It's daylights now. I sit on some rock and check my smartphone. There's a youtube-like thumbnail of a video, 01:24 in duration, with a desert-like view on the preview icon. Below the thumbnail is a picture of rather obscene content. I look away from the screen and see that the street goes further into the horizon, becoming desert. There's a tractor in the desert. "Maybe I should see how dollars are made", I think to myself, but there's now some old lady I know sitting on a rock next to me. We speak about something, then she jokingly mentions "I don't have much time left anyway", to which I reply "do they murder young girls now?". I look on the screen, and it shows an array of numbers, from 32 to 36, apparently this "old lady" is 32 years old.
Next thing, I check the text messages. Other than the few I sent to my friends, telling I'll be outside, I have 3 new ones, received quite long ago. All three are from another former classmate of mine. First one is "Ask your grandma to give you a map of the Russian Federation". Second one is "It's my birthday, come over to the Tyumen region. (Next line is in English; my dream was in Russian, mind you) You will see the Sadden region ^^". Third one is "Why do you ignore me? Are you satisifed with the food from your fridge? (also in English)".

And then I woke up.