Black rain

was on a large street in the city, watching the cars passing back and forth and dreaming that I was driving one of them. I used to meditate there every day at six and a half in the evening. And I would see myself, twenty years later, as one of those peopleI am driving my car through the streets of the big city, and the phone rings. I wake up from my daydream and see a number that is not registered with me. I do not answer. I have become accustomed to that. I never answer numbers I do not know, but the number keeps calling again and again, every day at six forty-five minutes for ten days.