I was standing near a window, in what looked like an office in a building. I have no idea in which town this building was. In a corner of the room, there were some photos hanging on a thread. Suddenly someone whose face I didn't see asked me to take - from that window - some photos of a man who was about to walk in the street. I didn't know why I was supposed to take these pictures. I looked through my camera and saw a man, dressed in the late 19th - early 20th century fashion, and wearing a moustache. And I thought "Wait!... That's Mark! :stunned:". I couldn't help wondering why that man didn't look like you, but somehow I knew it was you...

What also struck me is that through the lens I was seeing you (or the man who was supposed to be you) and the street in sepia tones, like old photographs. That street was narrow, dark and desert. The building you were standing in front of was made of bricks.

I don't know why I remember those details, but for some reason I thought it was important for me to remember them at that time.

I then turned around to ask why I was supposed to take pictures of you, and realised I was alone. The other people who were in the room had left. Which made me really nervous somehow. And I felt I had to warn you, as if you were in danger, but I had no idea what I was supposed to warn you of.

That's all I can remember. That, and waking up thinking "what the hell?"

Mark, what are you doing in my dreams????