I walk across the border into a section of occupied Iraq (a section which has been relocated into Arizona for security reasons, as everybody knows) and am directed by a polite Iraqi policeman up a very long flight of stairs to what suddenly proves to be the most famous roller coaster in Iraq.
The stairs are there, I realize, because Iraqi roller coasters start high, descend to a low point, and come up again.
I find myself riding the roller coaster, very much against my will (in the dream as in real life I hate coasters). However, the experience is nowhere near as bad as my experience on real roller coasters.
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