Mayan village

I am walking through a Mayan village; I don't know how I know that it is a Mayan village, but somehow I do. I walk through this village only moments after all of its people have disappeared. The road is rocky and I feel like I am in a cave. I look into people's "homes" and see the things they left behind, the tasks they were in the middle of when they disappeared. Clothes are scattered; there is a bundle of money; there are dishes left in the soapy water of sinks. The only living creatures left are dogs and cats. I rummage for food to feed them. I enter a darker cave-like home and see something moving out of the corner of my eye. A dog or hog is starving, and looks like it might collapse at any moment. I don't know whether I should try to spare this animal, or save the little bit of food for the stronger animals.

The scene changes and I am sidetracked from my walk in the village by a hotel bar. My cousin is working there and she asks me to hang out. There is a show on stage, singers and dancers. The gentleman who owns the bar wants me to work for him; I'm uncomfortable about working there, but I like the dark wood of the bar.