Dreaming of going to Switzerland again. Being very, very tired and sleepy after a long flight with L. Olten, our friend’s city, has very few remaining Swiss people – it’s mostly immigrants who don’t speak English or German. Sitting at a cafe in the street and working on my laptop when my other friend, who, as it turns out, is visiting too, unexpectedly comes from behind, we are pleased to see each other, and he tells me that I should meet people he knows and that there is something he must tell me. We turn to see a green Mazda swerving out of traffic, and a man standing in front of it with a gun, firing a single shot into it. We drop to the ground, hiding, terrified of what will happen next, an older Arabic looking man next to us – we can’t communicate. I want to text R and tell her I’d be late but I’m ok, but can’t find my phone. The police arrives quickly, but there are ominous looking people with guns coming from the other end of the street. There is a lot of very loud gunfire including automatic, but we just try to stay as close to the ground as possible. Then it’s over and everyone is gone, and we can go home. They wrote on my cafe bill, in English and German, that the meal was complimentary, as they thought I would not be coming back, but I insist that I pay.