I wake up in the snow, outside above my parents' house. I'm not cold or anything, in fact my feet are directly in the snow and yet I feel nothing. It's strange. Didn't I have a sleeping bag? I think I did, but I don't see it now, maybe it's buried in the snow. Maybe I was drunk? Nope, not a drop to drink.

Then I'm driving down the hill. It's snowy but traction is fine, then all of a sudden the two cars ahead of me start spinning and I know I am about to hit some ice. One car is in my lane, the other in the other lane, and I deftly drift between them, missing everybody by my expert ice driving.

Then I'm in deep snow, and I stop down in a dip in the road for some reason. My vehicle now seems to be dad's old blue Ford tractor. I think this might not be a good place to stop, because somebody could come over the hill and hit it. There's a similar tractor, but red, buried in the snow here too. And now I can't find my tractor, but I keep unearthing bits of it.