A man in a blue suit offers me a bowl of biscuits. They taste like the candied chestnuts my grandma used to buy in the Polish shop each Christmas but they melt in my mouth and leave a sour taste.
The man smiles and says, 'Have another one,' and I can't resist, even though I know it will be sour, so sour that my teeth begin to crumble.
I go to a wash basin and spit out bits of teeth. I rinse my mouth with water from the tap. I run my tongue round inside my mouth and feel the gums. I have no teeth left at all.
I look in the mirror. Behind me is an astronaut in a space suit. She's wearing a glass helmet like a fish bowl and she's saying something but I can't hear anything. I realise that I'm in space. I gasp for breath but no air enters my lungs.
Then the spacewoman removes her helmet and puts her mouth to mine and breathes into me. I am filled with a warm gas that blows me up like a balloon. I float and tumble through something that's like a tunnel in space, like being inside sausages or intestines but seeing through to the stars outside. I come to an underground railway station where thousands of people are waiting for a train. They are all women. Each one looks exactly like my mother.
Then I see him, the man in the blue suit, pushing his way through the crowd of mothers, trying to find me.