It’s always this dream and variations of it; I’m somewhere which in my dreams is an amalgamation of all the places I’ve been in my life, and I’m trying to get home but I can’t. I get delayed by something or someone. Something doesn't work. I walk and I get lost. I take a car and it doesn’t move. But it’s never clear to me really where home is. In a variation of the dream, I am home (in the Philippines), but I’m still trying to leave, to flee.

And the dream never resolves itself. I wake up and it’s small comfort at least in that moment when you’re half-awake, that you’re in your bed, in the place that feels and smells like home.