Some years ago, I had a vivid two-punch dream, in which I felt I was being recruited into a Russian intelligence agency.

I was lucid—that is, aware I was in a dream—from the beginning. Standing in a hallway with a crowd of other people like me, waiting for whatever was supposed to come next, I was practicing my lucidity skills by trying to levitate, and being reasonably successful at it. People were chatting among themselves, but I was minding my own.

Then, a representative of the Russian state appeared: a man in his sixties, heavily built, with a face both rough and intelligent. He could have been a professor of economics who makes most of his income by working with big oil and gas, occasionally drinks with powers that be—gangsters in the 90s, chekists in the 00s—but continues to do real research and is known to be both respectful and demanding towards his students.

He opened the door to a conference room and saw it was occupied by a different group. He shooed them away, getting visibly…