I just returned from a trip, and a girl (not clear who) and I are trying to get some long-awaited intimacy. We're in a small room as if in a train station, where there is a sort of bench that makes for a twin-size bed, but we keep being interrupted - first by some children, and then by a huge matron. For some reason she lines her breasts up with my girlfriend, offset so that they fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces, and I find this amusing and sort of stimulating.

Then biking home, as if from downtown to my house. It's a long ride, and I am really stressed out because I'm late - I have to be back to UnPlugFest (*) by 8:30am, and it is two and a half hours away, and we are making ever so slow progress on our bikes. We have to give up, we just can't do this, I will be late already!

We stop the bikes (I think at this point it's me and Natasha and Alona) and I dismount to talk to them, setting my bike down. When I look back, some trash collector has disassembled my bike and added it to a large pile of multicolored bike parts. I object, and try to locate my bike parts to reclaim it, but just then he picks up a pair of handlebars that looks like mine, and clips off the flange of the rubber handgrips with a large pair of clippers. I'm yelling and scolding and objecting, trying to stop the guy from destroying my bike, wherever it is.

Somebody comes to pick us up in a large truck with a vertical-sliding back door. Charlie is in there, and he jumps out immediately, but doesn't seem to recognize me, or even to notice me, though I call his name and greet him enthusiastically.

(*) In real life, I am at UnPlugFest in Las Vegas, and I have to be back to testing sessions at 8:30 in the morning.