A male dictator, overweight, kind of looks like Jared, is killing the Jews. Frank Sinatra and I are underground agents. He pretends to be a Catholic priest so the soldiers will think the Jews are Catholics. We work for their safety. The dictator is very angry at us and does everything he can to get us. We keep escaping and he keeps capturing us and tells us it's the last time. He walks out, grinning. We shrug our shoulders, grin and turn to escape quickly through a door. He'll never expect us to try so fast. We turn left and hide in a closet to fool the soldiers who expect us to run. Then we head for a ship. We're going up the gang plank, but it's hard and I'm on my hands and knees, my hands slapping the wooden ramp hard to gain purchase. A woman is getting off the boat and whispers to me as she passes, "Remember, your dreams are here to help you." I realize I'd been so busy living it, I hadn't had dreams or paid attention to them.