Following some events Dream Fade has clouded, I am in a small elevator with three others who are space merchants (apparently Star Wars-ian), but unbeknownst to them, they are marked for an "accidental" death, to avoid having to pay them. And unfortunately... I simply happen to be in the same elevator.
The elevator begins to drop suddenly, clearly out of control. The control operator comes on, reassuring to stay calm etc. She tries to explain how the contraption operates, indicating it goes through a loop (as in, passing the same place in a single direction).
"Wait," I offer, and suggest some technobabble about quantum mechanics that should stop the elevator.
After a pause, the operator replies with, "I dunno even know if you actually jus'said anything...!" Somehow I manage to repeat it, as I simultaneously visualize that the control operator is a large, sentient, angry-faced white chicken.
The elevator manages to slow to a sudden stop, but on going to disembark we find there is no floor, just a ledge just outside the elevator door, barely able to accomodate a foot. A few feet out on the wall is an old black-rotary pay phone, on which I rest of right hand. The three hold my arms to keep me from falling; the leader of the trio assists me in sitting on the ledge. Below us is a marble floored elevator lobby, as though we stopped one floor too early. It's not an overly far drop, but a bad jumped landing most likely could break a leg. One of the two others carefully jumps down and manages do so so without injury. I cannot find a wall-ladder, and when all three are down there they're able to catch me as I hop down.

I am in a small loft-like apartment that has been mostly gutted of furniture; during what seems to be the poorest turn-out for a wine-cheese party, a large screen TV plays the film Strictly Background while its director Jason frets at the sad turn-out.
I meet a young man who greets me at the bar; Dream Memory tells me this Dream Character is a recent but good online friend (a la Facebook or MySpace), and we chat for a bit.
I go to get a chair but despite it leaning casually up against a long flat table, a cascade of nearby stacked chairs takes place. Dream Memory tells me that locally this is a strong cultural taboo: that it is a very dark omen of bad luck. I attempt to make humour of it, and thankfully those who assist me do not appear to be frightened.
After a bit, Jason and I are distracted looking out the window at extremely mobile clouds, many of them right only ten or so floors up in the streets. They are moving as though via time-lapse photography in real-time. In the distance between two buildings we see a massive black cloud forming and rushing this way, all but racing past us above the buildings as we watch it zoom by like a cloud-made dirigible.
I run downstairs and find the backdoor to outside. Making sure there's handle so I can get back in, I walk out into the wide, sun-lit alley. The clouds zoom about in the strong winds, as in one direction I see what would appear to be the Los Angeles skyscrapers but they are all varied shades of dark-chocolate brown in colour (that is, not all one dark-brown colour: some highlights are darker than others, but all very dark brown). I head back in and up the stairs to hear what seems to be a live staged reading with my friends Jack and
Marvin, through which Dream Memory makes me "remember" I am part of this live show and I've aleardy missed any earlier scene in which I was supposed to be on stage. It seemed to be behind-the-scenes scenes of Strictly Background; I wondered if I would be allowed to participate in the Q&A if I wasn't part of the "show."
I go up many flights to large white-walled suite in which I am staying with my best local friend. I notify her of the strange clouds and the strong winds, just as I notice outside a peculiar white shape. I quickly realize it is not a cloud, but an out of control, quickly deflating hot air balloon.
Aghast, I tell her to look, as we watch in horror as the winds outside pull it down the street below our floor level. Suddenly the entire building lurches, swaying in the wind's grip. She and I feel the building pushed, then right itself.
"Time for us to get out of here," I point out and she does not argue the point as we head down to where the wine and cheese party is located.

I am at a college eatery with a young woman (seemingly) very attracted to me. The server brings over a wide round tray and sets it on top of my head. When he removes it, a large pile of french fries cover my hair. They do not want to simply fall off; with some annoyance I walk to the grill area and swish my head hard, expecting them to fly off my head into the food preparation area.
They don't. I touch them and find they've all but apparently solidified together in a mass in my hair. Extremely annoyed, I pull out what bits will come out, and toss them into the food preparation area, but the cooks (and the server) don't seem to mind or take notice. The girl, meanwhile, figures she should go to class. While she sympathizes with my predicament, she merely gives me a kiss goodbye and leaves me to it. I realize I am going to have to walk around with this lot on my head until I can shower it off. I take a bus to San Pedro to house and cat-sit for my friends, anticipating having to ask them to shower off these french fries on my head. On the bus is a girl I briefly mistake for the previous girl, which this one finds extremely amusing. The bus is close, but I find myself having gotten off a few stops too soon. I start walking, the geography seeming a bit off: the back streets are a bit labyrinthal. At one point I come to a yard with a rise in its lawn, and I note I have to climb down a jagged rock to get back to street level.
A tiny Yorkshire Terrier appears before my, barking at me, mostly for attention which it receives. On the street level is a slat-wooden bench, under which is another dog barking until I lean over to pet it.
The road bends to the left, which I know is the wrong direction, away from my destination about five blocks away now (according to the street signs), but I spot a small parking area at my right, at which is a doorway to the next street over towards the correct direction. Someone comes through and I have to run to catch the door before it closes. I then notice that somehow my Sherman Oaks friend's dog Dumbledore is with me, his red leash in my hand. I do not mind (despite IRL Dumble would be thrilled in a household of cats mostly in his insistence on killing them). We get through the door, meeting a large dog and its owner heading in the opposite direction. The man's dog is about a good third larger than Dumble, but is handsome and friendly, though Dumble uncharacteristically growls a bit at it.
"Maybe yours is another alpha-dog," I surmise, and the owner concurs, as his dog gazes at me longingly to be patted and to let me be kissed.

I have just microwave-cooked a dinner; outside I put it on a level surface at about eye level. Suddenly to my surprise, from off the plastic serving plate is a green turtle, the shell of which is about six inches long. Of course now he has his head fully extended. I go to pick him up but he goes to bite me, and rather energentically. I am careful to keep his wide mouth from catching my fingers; at one point pressing on his head with my index finger, but he tries to circumvent this action.
Someone comes out and wonders what is going on. I reply that this turtle is trying to bite me, as I also wonder whether he was in the plate as it was cooking. The wide round plate contains a large helping of spinach, but I do not notice any other food. The rest of the plate seems to have been large enough in for which the turtle to have been resting.
As I notice the person speaking to me is one of my best local friends William, the turtle is now far more... flexible, and it drops to the grass and heads away rapidly. I go to pick it up to keep it safe as I realize it is now a very surprisingly large hedgehog, its back a dark mossy green. I manage to pick it up, but (to William's apparent amusement), the little animal is also (or technically, still), working at biting me as I hold it, though as a hedgehog it isn't trying as hard as was the turtle.

I arrive at work and go to what I feel is the correct floor, but the hallways are different, similar to some of the modular-type looking wall of my New Jersey college. I go into a room and find it is emptied, and I wonder where is everyone. I return to the hallway, now filled with numerous people, and children. As I pass by, one adult worker mentions to another that he knows me and that it's okay [for me to be there]. I notice in the front hallway there are large blackboards on the walls, as more school children pass, head left and into the CFO and CEO's offices, as apparently they are now classrooms. I seriously begin to suspect I am dreaming and decide that by looking at my shooes should prove whether I am asleep, but I continue to walk with no further clue.
A smooth Dream Shift transition puts me outdoors, taking a "short cut" to some building, but I find the wooded area far too steep and I begin to slide. Having similarly once fallen off a cliff years ago, I manage to stop myself by sliding my feet into the roots of a tree. A nearby bush offers little help as it comes up, having been either newly planted or about to be (it still has the burlap bag over its roots).
With me I notice is my friend who recently put me up. She too is understandably concerned about getting down the hill. I glance to my right and see cars drive by: just beyond the autumn-fallen leaves is the driveway. All we have to do is walk about fifty feet to get to it. I find even earlier another, secondary driveway of sorts, headng into a tunnel seemingly large enough for a car through which to drive. It is green, as though made out of material to make built-in swimming pools. The secondary driveway and the tunnel are both very slipperly (I even can see some ice on the main driveway).
I wonder if the tunnel goes to a parking garage, despite not being level. While the walls are smooth, they are extremely uneven, and inside after a few yards bends to the left. I warn my friend to hang back as I check it out, but at the turn I notice quite a rush of water coming as though an oncoming car is displacing it ahead of itself. I rush back to the mouth of the tunnel, exclaiming for her to get back. She goes to the one side, I cut left at the mouth of the tunnel but it's a stiff decline and I have to hold onto an outcropping of tree on the rock wall beyond the mouth of the tunnel.
The rush of water pours out, and not surprisingly heads in my direction due to the decline. There is enough water than even lifting my legs my shoes/feet get soaked up past my ankles, and it's obviously ice water cold. The water lowers and stops, but no car emerges. I walk away from the tunnel and at my right is a risen path (a couple of feet higher, creating a shallow trench between it and on what I'm standing). A woman comes out through a two-legged dolman (the sort that form Stonehendge); she is wearing a red flowing outfit similar to a belly-dance outfit and the costumes worn by the Sybiline in the Doctor Who story Fires of Pompeii, however she is wearing around her neck a necklace with a golden pentacle (unencircled five pointed star). She carries a medium'ish open jewelry box in which rests a blood-red ruby she offers me to admire.

I am arriving at some job, the entrance to which has been blocked, blockaded it seems, by shopping carts. I can see that inside some sort of conference in the lobby, but I know I cannot get through to the front door, so I head inside via another entrance. Once inside I quickly realize it's the service entrance, and I still have to go around to find my way to the front. As I go around a corner I feel on my back what would otherwise be felt as cat paws walking on me... were I lying down. Here they feel like the cat paws are poking my back quickly to get my attention, but as I turn I see nothing.
Dream Shift:
Heading to the movies on foot, I am between bus stops. Geographically it appears to be an nature-overgrown area of Cedar Grove [New Jersey], on Pompton Turnpike, but I turn as though walk up Grove torwards Verona [New Jersey]. Behind me is a bus but I'm sure I can reach the next bus stop before it arrives. I continue straight despite the ashalt ends and I am walking a tree-lined, well-driven dirt road, albeit with grass in the center of the tire tracks. After a few hundred yards I see ramshackle domiciles and I turn to see the bus still on the asphalt road, making a sharp turn to its left. I realize I missed turning left to stay on the main street, and I am off course. Seeing the bus turn I know it will pass the movie theatre; I run for the bus. Halfway back to the main road I see to my right an established trail breaking through the tree-line along between properties one can use to short-cut down to a downtown area, very similar to downtown Morristown [New Jersey].
I run along the walkway as I figure I can probably make it to the theatre on foot, although I keep running. In the distance down in the street, I can see [Nicholas Cage?] falling to the ground in a loud cry of pain, having been shot in the leg.

Along with a Dream Character as well as an actual friend from back east, I am in cavernous cellars of some large department store of sorts. For some reason I have with me some luggage with personal items (possibly an overlay regarding my recent domicile issues of late). I hear strange sounds from behind me, followed by screams of my friend. He is huddled, terrified, in a tall but shallow alcove, in absolute terror that "it's going to get" him. I realize he is referring to a peacock that is trotting around and making his loud peacock sounds. Pointing out it's "just" a peacock does no good as apparently my friend is completely phobic about them and refuses to come out. Irritated, I calmly shoo away the bird, which at one point fluffs up massively in defense, but quickly retreats as I hold my bag out ahead of me. I follow it and find a large, high-ceilinged room with several hallways intersecting; the bird could have headed in any direction of the passages.
Returning to find my friend, however, I discover he has taken the opportunity to flee as well, and I make my way upstairs and into the main store. Dream Memory conveys I'm a long-time worker at the store.
In an aisle, a passing customer accidentally bumps me, causing the heavy baggage to fall. I look inside and realize I can consolidate much of the stuff. One disconcerting item is a plastic gallon container of milk which has spilled inside. I notice nearby there is a large trash bag and I quickly transfer milk-ruined stuff to it. After a few minutes I suddenly suspect my actions could look really strange (or worse, suspicious), to security cameras. I hasten my efforts so as to depart, when suddenly lights go off, then on again. Having substantially reduced my load, I head to where I know are elevators which will take me to the worker entrance, as the lights again keep going out then on. I abandon the idea of the elevators, and head to the worker area across a wide open floor, as the lights go out and a man steps out from the doorways to which I'm heading. As the lights come on a tall, frilly yellow curtain starts being drawn to delineate the floor as the man (seemingly resembling actor Bruce Davidson), brings a bullhorn to his mouth and announces, "Attention shoppers! There has been a security breach and we are going to need you to come forward and be searched."
I am appalled at the announcement, having nothing but my own property on me notwithstanding. It is a flagrant violation of privacy and personal civil rights, but almost instantly I see customers lined up as though at an airport security check-point, one elderly man placidly removing his necktie to comply with an unwarranted search, as I stand in combined disgust and wondering how to depart without being demanded to be searched.

Apparently a very attractive (and surprisingly young) woman is all but head over heels attracted to me. In her mid to late twenties with a long mane of black hair, she has agreed to spend with me an overnight holiday (New Years Eve type, but it may not specifically be that one), and she is utterly thrilled and it seems she and I will make love for the first time (as though the party to which we'll be going will cinch it). It turns out, however, that her father greatly disapproves, but I can't tell if it's me or the relationship, both, or what.
Outside along the rim of a high ocean-cliff, is a small, colourful children-sized metal-track roller-coaster done up as a toy-train; she and I get in the small ride and it takes off, racing pell-mell up and down along the cliff-face on the bright, clear day. As the cars are not large enough for two people side by side, I sit behind her, my arms about her waist.
Dream Fade or Dream Shift:
We are at her home apartments into which her father enters. Resembling a combination of UK actors Jim Broadbent and William Morgan Sheppard, the father begins to rant and rave incoherently, and even callously destroying trinket-like objects he knows she treasures, much to her dismay. He departs, leaving her distraught and inconsolably in tears; there is nothing I can say or do to comfort her.
Later I carry a basket of sorts, filled with objects to be brought to the party; we are outside apparently at Bloomfield Avenue and Orange Road in Montclair, New Jersey, where we are to meet those to take us to the party, but she is still utterly miserable. I put down the basket and go to embrace her but she all but recoils from me, having decided instead of going to the party she will spend the evening with some friends (Dream Characters I know in passing), but she wants to be alone with them: not with me and certainly not with her parents.
Stunned at this news, I cannot bring myself even to go along with my own friends (who eventually depart), and I stand transfixed as she walks over to her friends sitting at a small metal sidewalk-table up against a/the small restaurant.
Dream Shift:
I am cleaning up in some large penthouse apartment type hotel room, putting small product-bags into larger product-bags (e.g., a Kingsford charcoal bag into a slightly larger bag, both of which into a large dog-food bag). While working alone I feel my face is sweaty, I lean over and stick my face into a small built-in pool to rinse off the sweat. As I rise up from the water, I feel at least refreshed in that respect.

In Italy, a girl in her 20s has hidden a large lost diamond in a can of restaurant food to keep it from being stolen. A Spanish man (very Antonio Bandaras'esque), has been helping not only with the search but in keeping the search quiet. He has claimed that for some reason the diamond must be returned to Spain.
Along with a woman friend in her 30s or so, the girl very carefully begins to search various receptacles of food. Regular patrons of the eatery notice this and deduce the valuable item could be in their servings, so large portions of food are suddenly unceremoniously dumped onto the floor, and a large pile of people begin to sift through the mess for the jewel. Also interested in the diamond, a well dressed man and his assistant enter during the fracas, the assistant carrying a wide, shallow box from which the well dressed man carefully removes handfuls of baby chicks so to search the box. The chicks fall amongst the maddening crowd. From another box he takes three ducklings, two of which he simply tosses gently aside, but suddenly realizes, and with the third duck stops, and carefully lets the fluffy, dark-green tinged bird drop onto a few people so the duck has less distance to fall.
Back in the kitchen searching on the floor, the Spanish man is seething not only that he cannot find it, but that the women have caused such a commotion. "It was not a Spanish diamond," he tells the women. "It was an Italian diamond...!" he reveals. It was/is his intent to sell it locally for far more money, but the diamond remains elusive.

Dream Fade most likely is the culprit for why I am unsure how All This Began.
I am sitting on a low stool or such in front of some sort of on-the-street vending machine that dispenses postage. It is on the bottom shelf of a two-tier esction from an entertainment center; a flat scale onto which to put the mail matter, and one puts in enough coinage until the correct postage is dispensed.
Surrounding me are surly cops, being as willfully intinmidating as they can be. I have a handful of clean change, but at least one cop (at my left), refuses to allow me to use quarters, demanding I only use dimes and nickels. I have several large manilla envelopes that would hold one or two flat documents. Apparently I am to obtain the correct postage and for some reason I am being forced to do this.
As I have great issues with corropt cops, all of whom have Trouble With Authority (e.g., sovereign Americans are the public, while [corrupt or not], cops are public servants...), I am extremely irritated at their characteristically anti-American behaviour. As using quarters (many of which I have in my hand), will take less time, I am less annoyed at the situation than in their refusal even to explain why I "can't" use quarters, as they are valid coinage, and the machine should accept them.
Despite Knowing Better, I choose to challenge the large, burly and apparently most alpha cop, at my left. I hold up a quarter and snarl, "How much money does this represent?" (Technically such a question is a waste of time, as it attempts to introduce civilized reason to a dialog; when he answers it represents twenty-five cents, from there I can demonstrate that logically it follows quarters in the machine should work just fine...)
Being deliberately obtuse, however, the criminal cop sarcastically replies, "I don't know." He adds, "It doesn't matter."
Against my normally better judgement I spit back at him, "What, are you retarded...?"
This predictably gets to him. "That's an ugly word to use," he says, as based on results, he cannot deny it.
"Then we're in agreement." I say with flat but obvious authority. "It's the most apt and accurate description I can use..."
The corrupt cop glares back at me, surprisingly at a loss for words or even action.

I am working the second day on a science fiction movie or TV series. The shot has me playing some Russian scientist who believes he has the task of blowing out a circuit next to an open elevated garage door at a truck docking bay. Cracks in the white cement have grass sprouting through. The key moment is that two other scientists warm me in time not to do it, and for me to get clear. The trick is they are several yards away and I cannot hear what they are saying, so somehow by splashing around in water conveys their message.
At first I'm to turn and make as though I believe they are urging me on (I even have a white futuristic rifle with an orange arming lever on top, and I go to pull it back), but at the last second I realize they mean for me to get clear, and I jump from the platform, slowing down before I actually hit the ground and while I realize I am wearing a full astronaut outfit and helmet, the slow down of gravity does not surprise me. I nearly get up and realize I have no heard "cut" called. I also realize that the previous day I had lines I'd now forgotten I was to say. I slowly glance to my right at which is the open ground to where the others were, the direction from which a diminutive script supervisor approaches. Figuring I'm safe, I get up, apologizing for not remembering to say my lines and admitting not quite remembering the lines as it is, but as I go to request a copy of the sides with the lines, the woman merely says it was fine, as the scene was being filmed MOS anyway (e.g., no audio).

I am what seems to be a high-end penthouse presumably in Vegas or such. I hear a familiar name of someone quite powerful and I look about to see them, but a female Dream Character friend tersely admonishes me to "Stop it." I find this irritating and ignor her and she no longer remains, she may as well have been written out. A couple on the other side of a room-island bar seem friendly enough, but beyond them as a double doors swing open and a group of business-suit men enter, the couple take out Uzis and fire a quick blast at me. I say "Freeze!" and time instantly freezes, similar to a Star Trek: Next Gen holodeck program. The two sets of Uzi bullets are clustered in mid-air, annoying me greatly as either set would have hit my chest.
I walk around and find the couple have been with their backs up against a partition, their heads above them. With time frozen, I am able to lift and pull them over. Strangely, both fall to the floor, which technically should not happen. The male resembles Kevin Dillon, and the female a young Lea Thompson as a red-head. She hits the floor and un-freezes, struggling and resisting. I verbally order her to freeze, which she does, albeit still with visable reluctance.
I notice a police badge has fallen from her pocket. The male I bring over and search him, finding another badge in his jeans pocket as well. Feeling even less guilt over my intentions (what with corrupt cops being even far worse than flat-out, overt criminals). I bring them to where I was standing, so when time unfreezes they can meet their respective clusters of bullets head on, as it were.
To dispose later, I pocket their badges signifying their evil corruption, and head to the main door beyond the double doors, at which I say "Unfreeze!" I do not even need to turn around to see the sudden carnage I can hear taking place behind me, but I've already left the room.
I pass a lobby of sorts just outside a large casino, and I find a service elevator into which I head, wish to go to the ground level and depart. The elevator indicator is peculiar, and despite the sensation of movement I am not precisely sure if I'm going up or down, and the floor indicator keeps looping the numbers counting down from fifty to single digits then down from fifty again.

I am at work, failing to notice the room is larger, with wider aisles, and different stuff on front shelves rather than bankers boxes, such as televisions. Three TV turn on and while there is no picture, loud music of sorts begins to play, and while two switch off, the second one in the middle will not turn off (the sets are on different shelves, not in a row). I try various knobs and buttons on the ancient style set, to no avail. Suddenly I see a tall, lean man (wearing a black shirt and white pants with tiny black spots) walk by and down an aisle. Knowing no one should be in there but me, I wonder if I could have seen a ghost.
I walk to the aisle and turn the corner and find the man lying face down on the floor, as though he'd suddenly turned and fell forward. Unable to tell if the man is dead or unconscious, I glance down and the image sort of locks up, generally a condition that would have me realize I am dreaming, but in this case I am merely puzzling; as I physically turn my body around but my vision retains the same unmoving image of the body.

Backstory: Film maker Henry Jaglom wrote quite a positive blurb about Strictly Background; this past Monday night was a preview screening of Jaglom's new film Irene in Time to which I had planned to attend (after which would be a Q&A, at which I could meet him), until an emergency came up and I was unable to attend.

My producer friend and I are in a strangely (e.g., rather poorly) constructed movie theatre auditorium, containing oddly placed support columns that block the view of the screen, similar to a basement of a small community church at which local amateur talent puts on little plays as they have no theatre of their own. We sit in the very back row The film has ended and there seems there will be a brief break before Jaglom speaks, so I suggest to my friend we prepare to move forward as there will be people who may not return for the Q&A. My friend reluctantly begins to follow me down the slender aisle; as I glance back my friend silently heads to a seat only a few rows forward from the back. I head that direction but in the near dark I somehow cannot recognize my friend, and no indication is given as to which of the seated people is my friend (no verbal whisper or hand raise). So I figure I am on my own and move down towards the front.
A video camera takes up a few seats towards the end of one row of seats. Some people return and take up seats as I seek one on its own. I find a seat near but not clocking the camera. Suddenly a stench hits me and white cigarette smoke visible comes from around the back of my head. I turn to see a young man in his late twenties leaning up against a pillar, next to a seated woman. He is clearly smoking and hastily re-inhales some of it in near embarrassment. I growlingly remind him there's no smoking in a theatre, when I notice two other people smoking nearby as well. Thought I point out they can be removed from the theatre, they casually continued to pollute the air.
I head out and up the light-carpeted stairs to where I know is the theatre office. I pass upstairs theatre ticket takers and instead of a normal office, french doors open to a wide room more laid out like a living room. A young woman sits on the floor being attentive a very playful long-hair cat (the cat's face has the peculiar look of having been stuffed and sewn together, despite being alive). I ask the young woman, who I presume is either the manager or someone in enough authority, whether in fact it is a crime to smoke in the/a theatre. She sort of agrees but in a simultaneously apologetic and apathetic way, as though she's had complaints before and nothing can be done about it.
"So you're telling me," I say (as I notice the cat's strange face with the blue-thread stitching about its eyes). "That when I go to the Health Department tomorrow, that they'll be equally interested in your inaction as with the smokers' smoking?"
The woman casually shrugs as though such a complaint will go nowhere as well. Missing Jaglom's talk, I depart with disgust and return to the cramped auditorium and after again being unable to find my friend in the seat area to which she'd sat (either I still could not find her, she actually left, or she was simply wrapped from the dream), I go to the other end of the camera's row only to find upon sitting that a single set of metal scaffolding blocks my view (most likely my subconscious handling at the time my having no idea what Jaglom looks like). At first it seems Jaglom's talk is being shown as a black and white movie, then I notice Jaglom is in front of the screen at a podium accepting a rather massive award with which the theatre has presented him. To continue his talk, he hands it off to someone and I can hear the familiar squeak: while the diorama seeming award is colourfully painted and about a foot tall and two feet wide, the award obviously is wholly constructed from styrofoam.

From a nearby room I hear the opening theme to Mystery Science Theatre start then the lyrics going ludicrously stupid ("They hired a temp by the name of, well, you already know... and everbody was..." [at which point I realized there was a problem; the singer never lost stride but despite the extra words, the song doesn't really continue to the actually music stanzas beyond trying to squeeze all the new lines into the same bit of music stanza]...). I hasten into the room to find a few Dream Characters watching the show on a large screen TV, but the set is some peculiar living room with strange, plush, Muppet-like characters; the editing jumps rapidly to different ones, one flailing sheets on a bed, et al. It looks ridiculous and unwatchable; I can hear the voices so I say to the others watching, "Okay, I can hear Kevin and Bob, but where's Mike?"
"Mike's gone," lazily replies one of the apathetic two sitting on the sofa, as I watch on with horror the nonsense going on.
Dream Memory tells me I'm still living at the Montclair [New Jersey], but that for some reason my room is the orange front room of the house, not the blue back room. My mother happens upon me and (implying her room would be where her sewing room was, directly below the blue room instead of being below the orange room), she asks me why I've not been making any noise in my room. I am puzzle and tell her I'd moved across the hall, which is when (even as Mom wonders why I would move to such a colder room), I'm already internally wonder, why would I even do that...?