A long dream of living in Russia in the 1940s. My dad tries to switch careers, it doesn't go well. Then Hitler invades... then long, lean postwar years...

It's not just my family--the whole country's in a mess. So the government herds people to an endless chilly beach to pose for photos to convince the foreign press we're all happy and content...

But one person won't pose. Guard raises his gun. I suddenly think what's to lose?

I say "You can't kill ALL of us."

Guard says "Sure we can."

I say "If you DO, who is left for you to rule? And if you open fire on any of us, we can kill YOU before you get the last one of us. So you can't rule us!"

Guard hesitates; says "But you can't change things peacefully. You're not Gandhi!"

"Well, but you're not exactly a South African Boer either."

He drops his gun and we shake hands. Such a fierce firm grip. A good ally.

Still tanks and guns out there, but this battle, we won.

NEXT MORNING

Yesterday, I did a lot of little things just because they felt good; and I think there's a connection. This dream was nearly a nightmare, till that guard relented; but now I see hope.

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