The nightmare, like Kafka’s novel, was left unfinished, and perhaps for the same reason.
At some point I decided I had enough of being a madman and that I should go immediately to a hospital. The hospital I had in mind had a particularly sinister aspect but I was oddly unconcerned, the crime seemed to fit the punishment.
However, my efforts to reach the hospital were thwarted at every corner. The most bizarre obstacle took the shape of a Muslim woman that simply popped into my life out of nowhere. I was still married in the dream, so I was doubly perplexed when I bumped into her in the bathroom while she was fixing her makeup. A few minutes later she was making herself comfortable in bed, with her hijab still on and an incongruous whisky and cola on her bedside table. A puzzle within a puzzle as it were. And probably a meaningless puzzle at that, only there to distract me from my quest. I woke up in utter anguish for having failed to reach the hospital and its grim prospect of redemption.
My own interpretation is that the psychiatric hospital probably symbolised my natural place in the world, a discreet Shangri-la for the mind. But in a truly insane world, but not ignorant of irony, reaching my castle proved to be impossible, at least to ordinary mortal men.
I’d be happy to hear your own interpretation.