I am with friends in a labyrinthine hotel with a 1960s bavarian decor, and the floorplan of a humungous battleship. There’re plans in writing and braille of the innumerable oddly shaped polygonal decks, and I can’t find my room to change. Once found, it’s clear that my clothes are that of a boarding school or a college student, pastels and vaguely 1980s in a preppy way. The area does now remind me of college, but my assigned house looks like a ski chalet, and how can I cohabit with those girls who could be my daughters. Further, I must follow my friends out, albeit clad in this ridiculous attire, in London. Oniric London is a grey, vaguely futuristic, slightly terrifying metropolis, I can’t have them risk a sortie on their own, their safety and health is my responsibility.