Requiem For A Dream

Here is a dream I had last night:
I am standing in the middle of a white room browsing through the classifieds. A lovely woman who resembles Gong Li walks up and asks me what I’m looking for in the papers.
I reply “I’m looking for happiness”
“But happiness cannot be bought”
“Yes it can, but you have to find it”

Then the dream shifts into a strange sequence consisting of me and the strange lady visiting apartments and walk-up houses to speak to arab-looking women wearing purdahs. Each of them sells me a small piece of happiness, which I gladly buy with coins from ancient china (the type with holes in the middle).
Gong Li says to me “You still lack one more piece to complete your happiness”
And then the damn alarm clock rings and wakes me up. So I never got the last piece of happiness.
Now for the strangest part. When I left the house this morning, I found a chinese coin atthe car park. The very same type I used in my dream.
here is an excerpt of a poem from an ancient taoist poet circa Tang Dynasty
Chuang Tzu dreamed that he was a butterfly.
All day long, he floated on the breeze
Without a thought of who he was or where he was going.When he awoke, Chuang Tzu became confused.
“Am I a Man”, he thought, “who dreamed that I was a butterfly?
Or am I butterfly, dreaming that I am a man?
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