Awoke not long after five in the morning from maybe the most prosaic nightmare I’ve ever had. I was on a group trip to other countries, and during one outing I was falling behind the group walking up a long inclined urban road or path. Another of the group was straggling, too, but they went one way while I went another way, and then I even lost sight of them. Wandering aimlessly trying to find a way to help myself, I had no contact information for anyone on me, no smartphone, no bags. I ended up on a walking path above a highway, trying to find my way in what now had become night to what looked like a shopping mall, thinking maybe everyone had gone there. By the time I found my way down and away from the highway, it was just some sort of warehouse or factory, but I followed back alleys toward what seemed like more retail and office buildings, hoping to find the American consulate. On the way I had to cross an urban skyway between buildings, packed with people whose movements made the enclosed bridge sway, prompting a panic attack. Finally, I found the consulate and explained my situation. One agent started to say, “I don’t mean to be rude—” but I interrupted with, “So why do it.” The other agent said I’d be responsible for my own expenses. I said that I understood, I just needed help figuring out who to contact about finding my group. I woke up.