I was on the journey again, separated from my family. We got into different trains; mine was not bad at all. The sun made it a nice ride.
I got out, realising this must be a dream. I met him, Trump. He was super nice, got me everything I wanted. We got stuck for some reason in a big house. Half of it looked like a supermarket.
I was sitting in a chair, looking at my hand when he came, holding a thin plastic bag. He handed it to me, saying I should pick up any garbage.