I'm sleeping on the road outside this house, on a mat that is like a car floor mat, but longer, though not long enough for my whole body. I feel like crap, like I drank too much, and I just found this mat and laid down on it, right at the edge of the road and the driveway. There's a party going on inside the house, and a car pulls up, with some familiar older people who are attending the party, driving right near my head, and I get up so that I don't get hit.

I go into the party, apparently still looking all tired and drunk, and have to explain to my mom why I was sleeping out there. I don't know why I am feeling so bad, I say, I only had one beer earlier.

There was a big spread of food on a green-covered table in a large room, but the guy is now putting it away. He asks if I'd like some before he packs it up, and I say yes I would, so he serves me up a bowl of enchiladas (like the one Julie packed for me in real life a few days ago), but by the time it gets to me there are only a few bites left for me to eat. I sit down at the empty table to eat what is left, still feeling crappy. My sister Petra is there, talking to me.