My dream last night was…I found myself in a place that was much like Earth, in fact it was modeled on my own neighborhood from childhood. Yet it felt artificial somehow, and that odd feeling was confirmed when I noticed that water at the edge of the street was running uphill. Soon after I noticed that, the water ceased its incorrect behavior. A taxi pulled up and my friend J stepped out. I told her about the water, but since she hadn’t seen it she was skeptical. Still, she had no memory of how she’d gotten here (neither did I), so we agreed that things were odd. The dream skipped ahead a bit. J and I had evidently headed off in different directions after some time exploring together. I still loved her and I thought about her as I rode a subway train to some part or another of this odd, almost entirely unpopulated city. Despite the low population, I felt watched. A woman, a stranger with an almost sinister presence, approached me on the train and somehow persuaded me to come with her, and I went with her to a large house which was some kind of bordello which she ran. She was evidently some kind of temptation figure, for she was trying to entice me with various women on the main floor. Finally, a bit exasperated, she pushed me into another room and closed me inside. In the room, a woman was pretending to have been captured and bound by badguys, and was saying “Jack Bauer (24), help me! Help me!”. The mixing of sex (her wrists were bound to the ceiling, her ankles to the floor) and the asking for help seemed to get me over my hesitation and I went to help her, but of course did not free her and instead had sex with her, which was in fact the point of this play-acting. Soon thereafter, I somehow became aware that this entire place, every room, every street, was a sort of soundstage, a la The Truman Show. The viewers were invested in the question of whether I would find my way back to J or whether I would fall to the temptations that were being laid before me. This was the storyline. And I’d evidently given in to temptation at last, though it was still possible I’d wind up back with J. However, now that the Truman Show-esque experience had included hardcore sex, I became known by a sort of stage-name or appellation given to me. I was promoted as “Dan Martini” — which I hate to think may have been because I was not immensely-endowed like a typical porn actor, but rather was an everyman, which only by comparison would be ‘tini. So, I was “Dan Martini”. I recall that now that I was aware of the world beyond the soundstage, I was able to go out and I tried going back to school for an advanced degree, but people did not take me seriously. People snickered, and I countered by saying my performances were “all for you” but that was a lie since I hadn’t initially known I was a Truman-Show-like character.