I dreamt that I was in an all-out fight between a score of youngsters. I myself was their age—say, sixteen or seventeen. At moments I was observing the mêlée from some distance, and at moments I was participating in it with all my might. We all fought with the intent to kill, but we could not. We were weak, soft, and rubbery. Whatever each of us did to smother the others, nothing would come of it in the end. I remember holding another youngster by the waist, turning him upside down, and pressing his head to the ground with all the strenght I could muster. I was trying to break his neck, but his neck only kept bending ever more improbably. Exhausted and exasperated, I tried to run away from the pointless fight. I ran across a wide and empty highway and I tried to climb up some sort of wire fence stretched between tall steel pylons. A guard of about forty spotted me clambering up the fence, dashed toward me, and managed to grab me by the left ankle. I tried to free myself from his clutches, but I could not. I was still pushing him away with all my strength when I finally woke up. I was covered with sweat. This was my first real nightmare in a very long while.