I dreamt that I was sitting comfortably in a warm, heavy, oversized throne, barely awake; my head resting on my hand like Joey Bishop. And my hair was silver and short but at times appeared a cold blue. And there was a young handsome man, who I believe was my son, holding a sceptre and speaking to a great many people about some sort of system. But as I looked closer at these people, I noticed they were very mechanical in nature, like animatronics without the skin layer. And their movements were jagged and harsh, and their voices were very synthesized and incomprehensible, like listening to transformers in German. And I looked at the back of my hand and noticed it was marked with a hexagon, and then noticed all of these machines were marked with a hexagon. It was as if I was watching myself and being myself simultaneously. I forgot the rest.