I was watching a scene in the deep blue water off the shore of a country called Damascus. A man and a small boy were on a surf board, which was rolling over and over in the water. The man and boy were trying to reach the shore of Damascus where the were hoping to find refuge. However, from where they were, they couldn't see the shore, and it looked doubtful they would reach the shore. The boy began to cry.

However, they kept moving closer and closer to land until finally they could see the shore. They moved closer to shore until they encountered groups of other people in the water. All the people in the water were also refugees, fleeing from the land of Sadam Hussein, trying to reach Damascus.

When the man and boy were finally able to stand in knee-deep water, they were greeted by a surprise. Sadam Hussein, who had already gone to Damascus, came marching - fully clothed in military uniform – from the shore into the water. He spoke as he marched, and it appeared that perhaps Damascus was going to stop letting people into the country. I was in the water near Hussein, listening to him talk. I was uncertain what would happen to all the people in the water. I didn't know whether they would be forced to remain in the water, or whether they would be allowed to go on land.

I lay back in the water, thinking of my own situation. I knew I was the son of an important king and I would probably be arrested if Hussein saw me. But he didn't see me.