I’m walking around in Toronto. Perhaps I’m there to this see Ilya, I don’t know. It’s very unfamiliar but I don’t mind. I have in my hand a 20-centime piece. I’m not even sure that’s the currency there. That seems like a French thing. I have it in my hand and it’s a large coin. I walk down the street and I find a bank. They can tell me about my coin. It seems like a silly thing to do since it can’t possibly be worth much. But who knows? What if it’s so old it’s worth something?
I go into the bank and there’s a row of tellers. Off to the side on the left there’s a man with a lot of foreign currency brochures. I can ask him – he’ll know. I go up to him with my coin, which has become bigger and bigger for some reason. It’s now almost the size of a small plate. I asked him: “Do you happen to know the exchange rate from Canadian dollars?” He says “to Singapore dollars?” which is unexpected. And I say “No, to US dollars”.
I showed him the coin and I say “is this real? Is it fake? Or… is it chocolate?” I look at him. He looks at me. We look at the coin. And we both instantly know it’s chocolate. So we have a laugh over that.
So as I walk out of the bank I figure I might as well eat it. I open it up and peel all that foil, which is quite convincing, When I break off a chunk, it turns out to actually be a Peppermint Patty. There’s a thin layer of mint in the middle.
Outside the bank, this sort of homeless guy I guess is just standing there. He’s ranting about some kind of conspiracy theory. I offered him some of the coin. I think I’m trying to baffle him some more – I’m not just being altruistic. I think I want to see if it turns into part of his conspiracy theory. We go down the street together, and then I suggest we walk through this door,. I don’t know why. He’s mistrustful. and that’s where the dream ends. 7:05am