I'm at my parents', with a group of unfamiliar people. One guy is in an accident or something, and a girl is resuscitating him, giving him mouth to mouth, on the floor of the garage, near the front entrance. She has her shirt off and breasts exposed, because apparently that's what you have to do when you resuscitate people. It's dark, and a dozen or so people are sitting or standing around, watching in the dim light.

The kid wakes up, coughs and spits; his eyes are dark and watery and he seems confused, like someone who just woke up from near death. The girl puts her shirt on. I start to clap, though I'm not sure that is the right thing to do, and the rest of the onlookers clap too, though a little awkwardly and feebly.

Somehow a fire starts in the garage, and ignites a huge barrel of oil that stands on stilts. Oh man, I think, that thing is going to blow all this to pieces. But I'm not sure of the physics of it, and though I back far away along the driveway toward the barn, nobody else gets that far away, and I don't say anything. It doesn't explode, though it makes some booming noises that I think will be the big explosion, and continues burning dramatically.

I remember thinking I should get some video footage, but I have no camera. I go across to the house to get one, having to pass a spraying stream coming from the garage that seems dangerous but turns out to be just water, and I slip past into the house.

My room is where my parents' bedroom would be, though I seem a guest. The bed is just inside the room, by the door, and I'm on the bed or behind it. Dena comes in - maybe it was her doing the resuscitating, but I hadn't noticed then - rather sad and in a mood that suggests she needs some comforting. I talk to her reassuringly, and invite her to sit with me for a bit.