It’s a winter cabin and I think I’m a teenager, but it’s a Scandinavian family I’m hanging out with in a cold, northern forest. One of the daughters is called “Susie of God.” I ask the teenager my age if he’s studying European History. He says, “yes and next week Czechoslovakia.” I ask if I can do some sort of self-directed history thing. I’m wondering what’s to become of me if I’m some sort of European now, but the girls my age in this family are cute.

Outside, the house is surrounded by a band of men who I recognize from my youth, old scoutmasters and junior high teachers. Across a frozen backyard pool, we get in a snowball fight and I learn that an old friend has purchased the cabin next door. He barrels into the property at an impossibly high speed, and I wake up, to fall asleep again, in a baseball stadium where my friends and family are stepping up to bat against Ted Nugent. It’s a celebrity challenge of some sort, where Ted claims he can beat anyone, but all my friends are putting Ted to shame, and I look down at his boot, where an aqua green gel is leaking out of him. He appears in good humor about losing, but I’m not sure if he knows that he’s a robot.