We sit down at the window. The waitress comes and we ask for a steak and a coffee. We look out into the rain on this February day. I know they will get me into trouble and I hate it. For now we speak about loving and hating other people as well as ourselves. Then the waitress serves the food.
I want to eat alone but they do not let me. One of them even drinks my coffee and when I say something, they get loud. They yell at me and I yell back at them. They scratch my arms and they take knives and cut into my hands and feet. I beat around to get rid of them but there is no chance. I bang my head against the table and after hours of scratching, cutting, kicking and banging we fall asleep.
We have a dream, no, I have a dream, a special dream: I am alone in this dream. It does feel awkward to be without the others, to not hear their voices, but it is a grand feeling: I can actually take decisions on my own and do not have to listen to them. I walk through my dream-world and none of them can do anything about it. It is wonderful and it is not for long:
When I awake, they will be back.