January 10, 2026

An Iranian friend came to my home and handed me his tar (traditional Iranian musical instrument). As he disappeared, I held the tar and accidentally hit a wall. The tar’s neck broke from the body. I was horrified. I thought maybe I could fix it with glue but didn’t even try. It was impossible. I set it aside. I thought I would probably have to pay my friend a thousand dollars but I didn’t have any money.

I went to bed. As I was half asleep, I heard my friend looking for his tar. He picked it up but didn’t seem to notice the damage. When he left, I was so relieved. I told myself if he found out later, I would deny causing the damage.

Then I noticed there was a naked American woman hovering above my bed on her back. She was lifting a board with her hands. I started licking her breasts. She was startled at first, but as I continued, she breathed heavily with a slight moan. I continued for a long time.

Then I saw one of my relatives, who supports the Islamic Republic, wearing a black chador, waiting to take a shower. But the bathroom was full of children.

Then I was outside walking in a field. It was foggy. A Dallas Cowgirl joined me and held my arm.

“Were you the girl in my bed last night?” I asked. She said yes with a smile. I thanked her for the time we had spent together in bed.

As we walked in the field, we saw a man talking on a satellite phone. He was American - some kind of influencer - but I didn’t recognize him. On the phone, he was asking for help. He was becoming paralyzed. He looked at the cowgirl and said something complimentary.

“Such a typical guy,” she said to me. “He’s about to die but is still turned on by a woman…”

We both laughed.

We put him on a couch hoping someone would find him and help him. 

I continued walking, alone. I passed some stores. One of them was under construction and I thought about the necessary city permits (note: the previous day, in real life, I had talked to the landlord in the hostel in Cusco about fixing the kitchen for my Bah Bah restaurant).

As I continued to walk, I noticed I was carrying a “hallaji” - a wooden tool used in Iran to fluff hardened cotton. I must have  unknowingly picked it up from a store without anyone noticing I hadn't paid for it. I wanted to return it but couldn’t remember which store it belonged to. I left it by a wooden fence and hoped the owner would find it.

When I got back home, one of my sisters called on the phone. She said she had heard that agents of the Iranian regime were looking for me. I laughed it off.

Then I heard a knock on the door. I walked toward the door. There were two eyeholes, one high up and one lower. As I tried to look in the lower one to see who was there, the door opened and I saw two suspicious-looking men. They came toward me. I knew they were going to kill me. I wanted to ask for help from my sister, who was still on the phone, but it was too late.

I woke up.