I don't know if it is a bother for you if I write something before I describe my dream, but the night of the 19th I was thinking about my coming to Lima from Arequipa (where I used to live) to live here with my mother, and I was imagining how the trip would have gone if it were rushed, and the same thing happened in the dream, including the same feeling. Now I'll describe the dream: I was in Arequipa, but it was in a house where I lived before I came here. That is, it wasn't the one I lived in when I came here; am I making myself understood? Well, it was about two hours before the car came to pick us up and I asked my mother when we were going to fix the stuff that we had left, and she was telling me to start and so on. There were lots of things and several suitcases and from that bunch of stuff we picked out what we thought was best. Well, when there weren't any more suitcases, I handed my mother a large bag for her to put what remained in there. But before that, the driver came to pick us up, and we told him to come back later, and I had a terrible feeling, knowing that we had run out of time. Well, before everything else, I now remember that I had gone to confession and when I went into the church, there were two confessionals, one on each side. Then I went to the one on the left, but there was a very old priest, all bent down and with a hunchback, so I went to the other one because he was younger.