I don't know where I am in this one again.

A slow plodding stream of pilgrims steps out along a dusty road. They, or we, are bound from a small German village to a larger town.

One is filming, with his crew. He hopes to create a documentary which he will distribute himself. There is a market for films of an hour or so, but not much reward. The filming is for mere survival income, not fame. There is a shortage of everything, even filmstock, and he is never sure in this day and age (unknown) whether he will see interference, and from which direction.

One who is of our party carries a TV set. If he reaches the larger town (unnamed), he can sell it. If he encounters gendarmes, he will lose it, with his freedom, such as he has. There is no bill of sale for the item.

In my dream, we do not begin, nor do we end our journey. We only walk along a dust y trail.