I spent the whole night dreaming of traveling with people, getting separated from them on the way, and looking for them left and right. From dream to dream, people changed. And so did the means of travel. Sometimes I dreamt I was with relatives, sometimes with colleagues, and sometimes with people I had just met. We traveled by air or by rail or by road. But we always got separated in the end. Dream after dream, I was looking for someone who got separated from me in my travels. This happened in airports, train and bus stations, parts of foreign cities… I do not remember how many such dreams I had, but there must have been at least five of them during the night. When I decided it was enough, I realized it was time to get up already. Lying in bed, I reflected on my many dreams. As a metaphor for life, or at least my life, traveling is not a bad one. You are with some people a part of the way, and then you get separated from each other, quite often by chance. They go left and you go right. You look for each other for a while, but then you give up. Most of the people I traveled with, as it were, are completely lost by now. In some cases, I cannot even remember their names. Life is like a bunch of disconnected dreams, but dreams are often alike. Forever traveling.