Dream Interpreter AI™

As dreams usually go, during the scene of the dream, the me in the dream scene is not aware of the fact that I am dreaming. I disembarked from a plane. I was travelling alone. Regarding my trip, I'm not sure where from, where to and what purpose for, but as dreams go, such things didnt seem to matter during the dream scene to the me in the scene. It happened to be a plane with many of the passengers being refugees. In the sky bridge and hallway to the immigration, I opened my handcarry to take out somethings to donate/give to the refugees. And at that time, an immigration officer walking down the hall mistake me as one of the refugees - he/she (again, the officer's gender was another detail in the dream that didnt seem to matter in the scene and was not part of my concious sphere in the dream scene) was trying to seperate the refugees from the regular travellers with passports and visas. I tried to protest that I'm not a refugee, but in the crowd/que and with my handcarry opened/half unpacked, I cannot find my passport. was it stolen from me at some part of my travel after the last immigration check? or while my things are unpacked where I was? Or is it somewhere in my mess of belongings? As with dreams, such panic was surreally dulled. With no papers my protest fall to deaf ears and condescendingly told it can be sorted out later at my country's embassy and I would have to enter as an refugee first. We were brought to a room with tables, on which stacks of forms and a few stationery stands of pens are available. There was no order, no que - the refugees, though of mixed ethnic descent, a large number of which were taller/larger/fitter/more aggressive than me, all rush forward for the forms and pens. I couldnt make my way to the tables through the crowd. The immigration officers who manned the door couldnt care. Slowly the room cleared as one by one, the refugees filled their forms and present themselves to the immigration officers in the next room for processing. As the crowd thinned, I finally managed to make my way to the table, but most of the remaining pens are broken - many of the refugees who left their homes with next to nothing must have clung to this little piece of new worldly possession that they can lay claim on. The forms are strewn accross the tables and on the floors - some torn, some marred with shoe prints and other grime, some half filled and discarded, presumably erronously filled. The remaining refugees and I pick through the mess like scavengers trying to find usable copies of the required forms and a usable pen. The officers couldn't care, and told us those were all the copies of forms available. The day wore on, but a handful of refugees and I were the only ones left - we have sorted out all the forms that were strewn about the room but could not find a usable copy. The officers had no choice but to consult their superior, but there were no more copies of the form and none could be made during that working day - which was coming to an end. The officers involved in processing refugees also only worked office hours so it was decided by the superiors that we would go on the last bus to the location where they are housing the refugees - an abandon resort that has been hastily done up to house the refugees. The plan was for forms to come in the morning. Anyways, refugees were not suppose to leave the 'resort' till further arrangements can be made. We arrived at the resort, but those of us who do not have our refugee paperwork done were not assigned rooms and basic necessity packs. As were languish in the lobby, we realise that they were other refugees there in a similar situation but from prior days. It turns out the forms get sent to the airport first and the surplus at the end of the day is suppose to come with the bus to the resort, but there almost never are any due to the chaos and the entailing wastage. A helpful concierge at the resort told me that initially the forms are inserted into the travel magazine of the airline so that every passenger on the plane gets one and can fill it while enroute in the air, and that the resort also have copies of these travel magazines though the ones in the lobby and occupied rooms have all been taken - some refugees can be seen picking though the magazines in the lobby wearily and disheartedly, more to pass the time then with hope to actually find a form. I was guided in the dark to abandon units that have yet to be done up to try my luck in finding one of these forms in a travel magazine. the first unit, I vaulted over a chest high picket fence, ending up a small pool, wadding out of it and through the broken glass sliding doors into the living room of the chalet, I pick through the magazines there with no luck. The next unit, I walked up the from porch, the steps leading to the front door were blocked by overgrown brambles and thorns. As painfully and gingerly try to make my way through it, the wooden steps to the front door broke and I fell forward into the thorns. This was when I startled awake in confusion, wondering what was real and what was not. Several seconds passed before I came to myself, but thoughts about what the dream meant lingered on till now, and possibly the forseable future