One of the advantages of being mildly ill is that it thins out the veil around you. I haven't been seeing visions (I never do, more's the pity) but I've been feeling the insubstantiality of the pageant we're engaged in. (Hey, bro, hey sis, wake up! you're an immortal soul; don't be so afraid of taking risks.) The image that keeps coming back to me is of dry leaves. I'm wading through dry leaves. The world is made of dry leaves and so are the people. Everything rustles.
I dreamed I was in Russia and the police had come to arrest me. They were friendly police. One of them asked me to release the clasp of his necklace for him. While they were in my flat they installed a security camera to spy on the people below. It was a bright, sunny day. I waved down to the people- on the grass in their bright summery clothes- to draw their attention to what the police were doing. They waved back. The situation appeared to be "desperate but not serious".