I was traveling, exploring an indeterminate tourist attraction. My family was with me, and as we were going through some stone passage (or possibly a cave), my dad and I were having a conversation about banks.

I kept encountering a man and a woman dressed like low-key clowns in red and yellow, who I recalled were part of the experience of the place and were a good thing to get a picture of. They seemed to know this, too, and always picked up on my camera being pointed their way to make large, hammy grins. This embarrassed me, and I would immediately point my camera slightly elsewhere as if I had been lining up a shot of something else all along. Once I even yelled at them, “Why do you keep doing that?!” as I framed my dad’s face quickly with the turned camera.

One of the clowns pulled me aside later and informed me that the reason they had caught my camera each time was because the two of them were keeping an eye on me. He informed me that I was in fact a secret agent. When I denied this, he told me to listen to some video, which seemed to be in Russian. He said I would understand it, and it seemed like I was on the verge of understanding what was going on but . . . the end.