I'm out camping, I think, inside the space of a large camper, which I'm sharing with about five other unidentifiable people. We're at the dinette, and the kitchen is at a lower level, through a window. It's getting late, and people are setting into sleeping places, as if sort of first-come-first-serve, and I worry that I won't get a comfortable place to sleep. There's a completely open bed just down at a lower level, so I scramble down there to settle in - well, it's open except for a huge black panther. I mean huge, like the size of a large lion, and completely jet black. He appears to be my pet. Somebody is annoying him, or he's feeling crowded, I can tell he's getting stressed out and agitated, and capable of cougar-like violence. I tell everybody to chill out and let him relax. But my dog Bella is there, with her butt right near his face, and he hisses at her. I imagine what an injury could result if he bit her.

I wake up in the morning and somebody who seems like Angela from The Office is cooking in the kitchen. I wonder if she got any sleep, or whether she didn't ever find a good bed.