Safya, Writer

    In July 2010, I dreamed that I was flying over downtown Cairo in a one-person helicopter made of glass. Like a Segway, in the air. And the entire city was flooded to the level of the billboards, but the lights were all still on. It was post-apocalyptic. There was a sinkhole in the center of Tahrir Square that the water was rushing into. And I was afraid of flying too close to it. So I flew up to Muqattam, where the water was rushing over the cliff, creating this kind of waterfall, and I went underneath the waterfall, into this tiny cave. And inside there was a ten-foot-tall military man, like twice the size of regular person, sitting in a chair, and I spent all night just chewing on his ankles, punching him –– he was like a clown doll, made of rubber, but he was taunting me, I could hear his voice inside my head. And I kept on hitting him, and it was so satisfying, it was the most satisfying thing. And when I first saw the images of Tahrir from overhead, it was all I could think about.