I dreamed I was out in the desert. My companion and I were riding those two-wheeled things- I forget what they're called- where you stand on a platform holding on to a steering column. We came to a place where there was some sort of camp and men working on a broken down vehicle. They were builders. And beyond the camp, through the dusty haze, we could see the apartment blocks they were putting up. We went further- and there were trees. Not palm trees or scrub thorn- but wide spreading English trees.
Then there was a river winding between the trees- a deep brown river-like the Thames in Oxfordshire.
"Where did they get the river from?" I cried. "Where did they get the river from?"