I'm in an exercise class, like yoga, with a number of other students, and a skinny old instructor, a dark-tanned, bearded man. He takes us through some stretches, and then - somehow directing his instructions to me personally - shows the next exercise, which involves taking out his penis and putting it in this cutout on a box on a table, and smoothing it out across the box. I mutter something under my breath to the effect that I've gone far enough, I'm not going to do that. Apparently the lesson is over after that, and we start packing up our yoga mats.

I'm not sure if I should apologize to the instructor or something for not following his directions. I see my brother Steve, on his knees in front of him with his forehead on the floor, thanking him in an oriental way for his lessons, and I think, probably apologizing on my behalf.