I wake up and find myself on a
couch in an apartment in
Brazil (no idea how I knew it was Brazil; it just was). And it felt right. I go over to my host (who doesn't
look vaguely
familiar) and smalltalk for a while, then say I want to go out and
eat. He nods and says "just remember, we're house 303" (with no street name). I ask "ok, but I don't know
Portuguese. Is this a problem?" He says "no, everyone speaks
English here." So I leave.
It's night and there's some fog in the air. It's a warm night in Brazil and I'm not wearing a jacket. I'm alone on the street, with some open fields around. I'm afraid of Brazilian cannibals or wild animals attacking me, so I'm walking fast. I see what looks like a restaurant on the right side of the road, past some swampland. There's no parking lot and there's grass growing straight up to the door.
I enter the door and it looks like a typical American truckstop, with a few people seated and eating. I ask for "cheeseburger, but no fries". The cook nods and a few seconds later, I'm eating my cheeseburger...somewhere in Brazil.
End of dream.
(background: I've never been to Brazil and have no desire to really go there. The number 303 doesn't mean anything to me...it's the area code for Denver, another place I've never been. And well...I like cheeseburgers I guess)