I'm in a restaurant and see a young girl there that I want to meet. She's standing under a bush and it looks like the leaves are her hair. She is talking to her father, who is saying goodbye. I look up. There's a long line of people on a staircase that isn't moving. I wait for C., who is queuing at the top, but I can't see her. M. walks past in front of me. Is it really him? No, it's just someone who looks like him. I see my brother in the queue. He's coming back from a trip and is tired. His eyes are closing. Y. holds him. I wave to him but he doesn't see me. There is another M. in front of him. The queue still hasn't moved.