Vanishing

I wake up from yet another dream in which I find myself in a strange city, or in an unknown part of a city, which is normally a blend of London and Caracas. I need to find an address, I know where the address is but cannot find a way to get there. I get on a bus that has a destination close to where I want to go but the bus meanders up and down mean neighbourhoods with tower blocks and gangs of youths on the street. For some reason I have to get off the bus and find my way down those dirt streets which are more like paths between the precarious looking houses on the hillside, my path ends up at the back of one of these houses and I have to get through it, fearing getting caught as a trespasser. I can see at the front of the house (enormous glass window/wall, how can they afford that in a place like this) the city down below, smoke billowing up from a dozen places. I end up on a street under a railway bridge, some street youths walk towards me and I, coward that I am, wake up in cold sweat, even though it wasn't a nightmare just yet. Need to go to the loo, have a drink, take in the real night -but is it more 'real' than the world I was inhabiting just now? The latter is just made up by my mind but the former is what my brain, after much processing, makes out of the world. As I come back from the loo to the bedroom in the dark the dream, so vivid an instant before, begins to unravel until only a vague feeling of having visited another of my worlds remains.