Jacki and I are playing ping-pong. First it's on the computer, a pong game. But she hits a spin, which I marvel a bit at the math of, in this simple machine, but I can play it too. It then turns into a real ping-pong game on a table. We're in a room like the redroom at my parents', and it seems that a party has just finished. The table is set up parallel to the fireplace, and I am at the end near the door. There's another table next to the ping-pong table, with remaining food from the party.

Jacki leaves the game temporarily to go to the bathroom or something, exiting between the two tables. She seems very frail and sad as she passes, like she needs a hug, but I don't do anything. There's a barrier, and I'm thinking when she gets back I should break it and just give her a hug.

On the table is a bowl much like my betta's fishbowl, filled with fish strips (get it?). I take one out for a snack, but I think it's potato or something, and I wanted one of the fish ones.