The dream has begun. Walking through long white corridors. Propelled forward by destination. My mind shrouded in a sleepless haze, I step dazed, I float, I glide, My eyes, my ears, catch note of the polyglot melody enlacing me, tracing me. Languages, some recognized, others not. A wild blend of cultures and stories, passing through, sliding by one another with such ease. I steal away from my own story, slip from my own skin to hear the chatter of others. Once again I think I find myself (I discover myself) in this state of movement, between places, between time, between destinations, ironically, I am never so present as now. In this airport. Then a bus journey. Next time a train. The past has discharged me, and no future has bound me. I breath new air and smells and sounds, I could go anywhere, but most of all I am here now. I revel in the anonymity of the moment, but am somehow more defined. Nothing in the moment binds me, or tries to define me, I could be anyone. As Joseph Campbell wrote,” where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world." I find satisfaction in being one of the thousands of moving bodies, the swirl of colors, each of us a different hue. I am a solo traveler, but do not feel myself alone. Spontaneously I imagine all of this as life after death, after the last breath, walking through these white corridors, going I don’t know where, our lives passing one another so softly, we see our differences—the differences we couldn’t escape in life, that kept us apart—their meaning has passed and we just see. The dream.