I was immediately aware of a pounding inside of my skull. Who is this person and why do they need to know my name? Do you want to know for me or for you? What purpose does my name serve you? “What is your name?”

I try to speak but find my throat is spitting with blood. His voice is impatient, “another John Doe” I hear him say.

Rows of people start to materialize in front of me and with darting eyes they are staring, glaring, asking my name.

Stop! I yell out and someone has a hold of my arm and forces me down. Help, let me go! Figures emerge from behind doors hidden by the mist and begin to talk in layers of English that hurts my ears. I kick and yell but a group of wasps are holding me to the cold stone.