And by “dreaming”, I don’t mean “thinking about during my waking hours”, I mean actual dreams. I get there early in the morning or late in the evening, grab a tray and load up with biscuits and gravy, or some kind of sub sandwich. There are also pre-packaged meals for people in a hurry, they’re on the counter opposite the one with the self-serve waffle makers and the big dispensers loaded with cheap cereal (the kind that’s made in the same factory as the name brand stuff, but sold in a bag). The room is slightly colder than comfortable, which pushes me to get some oatmeal and a warm beverage. The walls are covered with agitprop, 50/50 historical posters and local art. Near the doors, there’s a few stacks of reading material - both a trotskyist newspaper and an anarchist 'zine can be seen. Then I sit next to a comrade who I kinda know because we’re always here at around the same time, and we eat and talk about whatever, and during this time I wake up.

It’s the fourth or fifth time I’ve had this dream. I don’t think it means anything except that I wish I could go there.