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Dream.

Transporting the materials for my project. It seems to consist of two trolleys of rare gases in cylinders, and a lot of chem-lab glassware. I finally sign it off and push it out of the building as they lock the doors. It's dark and I can't find the car. Rain. Many hours later I'm rowing the damn stuff along the coast and am forced by bad weather to spend the night in a strange hotel run by men that refuse to let me leave until I beat them in a Chinese chopstick game. The game is curious, you have to divide some small sticks into groups divisible by three or five then there's a fast rhyme to sing as you pick them up and move them around the table. As everyone else does the same thing. I'm there for days, singing the stupid song, playing the stupid, difficult game.

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