I was lying on the floor of a large, bare room at least three stories high. It came to me that I was an agent, my partner was dead, and the villain, Orson Welles, was contemplating whether I were alive or not. He was regarding me from high up and seemed deceived, although I could not believe it since my breathing, even though controlled, seemed obvious to me. He and others left me for dead.

After a while, I cautiously found my way out of the room. I remembered that my colleague and I had been sent here to find out what was going on. She had been killed when we were captured, but I was stunned only.

As I was examining one of the yellow industrial drums that seemed to be everywhere, a group of four or five women came along, chattering. They paid no attention to me or my clearly suspicious behavior, and did not question me when I joined their group. I put a plastic bag that I had pulled out of a drum into another one nearby that seemed to be full of liquid nitrogen. Instantly “mutations” popped into my mind. With a sense of horror, I thought that I would now be responsible for one.

The women, who were workers, seemed to be able to go anywhere. I clung to them for safety, answering that I had not seen a particular movie when they asked.

I did not know what I was looking for or what I was seeing. Thoughts of the dead colleague haunted me. Then we came across a man, a scientist, with pieces of something, including blue and yellow membranes. He told a large group gathering, including mine, that he was going to reconstruct and bring back to life an enormous (and unnatural) spider. I watched with horror and fascination as he did so. A sixth sense felt that I was being surrounded and would be trapped again.