I come to on a couch in an apartment room. The scene which had just been going on comes to my mind, the scene which had been underway when I passed out. I was leaving an apartment building in a large complex with Jordan and possibly Jimmy, one of the guys I met in Fernandino, headed to some party. We all ate a roll as we left. We were making jokes about last names.

We stopped by another apartment to pick up more pills. The people here were very, very weird. The animals all reacted to me terribly. First the cat attacked the bottle of juice I was carrying and tore the bottle open. I asked whether I should use a sponge or paper towels to clean up, but everyone was scowling and angry.

There was some sort of sashimi chef there who was legless, had lost his legs some how. He had a huge sushi knife and was sort of hopping around on a big steel table. Then a dog barked at me and bit my arm. I fended him off, but he latched his hand onto mine and I couldn't get it off. No one really bothered to help. I kept the dog at an arm's distance. By the time one lady came over to help, the dog let go. They never believed it was holding onto me, they thought I had been lying.

One of the women in the home, the one that came to help, was operating a huge table adorned with hundreds of bells suspended on bars like a foozball table.

So anyway I wake up here, on the couch, with nobody home. Jordan and Jimmy have left, apparently. At first I'm frightened, then as I walk out of the ajar door, I suspect I am dreaming and begin to float to test the hypothesis. It turns out I am.

I see my reflection and pass into it. It is accurate, the entire body looking like me from head to toe. It is sweating profusely. When I pass into my reflection I appear in a sort of city area that is full of vividly colored signboards. I am trying to determine where I am, not in the dream but in waking life. I know it, but the name is slippery. Then suddenly I've got it: Stock Island.

I start flying that direction, passing over key west and then over the ocean. The colors are vivid still and the surf on the ocean is fizzing and hissing on each wave. I begin to concentrate on staying in the dream long enough to make it to my body on Stock Island. I am trying to will myself there but am unable to teleport and am flying instead. When I reach the area that should be there, things are unfamiliar. There's a thick fog and plenty of shipping containers. Some run down, foundation level buildings. And then I wake.