From a Moving Train is playing a show on a rooftop. There's a stage are all set up, and my friends and family are sitting around, some at a bar in the center of the roof. The opening band finishes up, and we're ready to go on.

But I'm supposed to be using my red guitar, and I can't find it. I look all over, and the audience just waits. Finally I decide that it's ok to use my acoustic, and Joe can use my other acoustic. So I go to plug it in, and there's something wrong with the blue cord that plugs into my guitar - I think the end falls off. So I need a new cord, and I have to go find one.

We're going to open with "Hold On". I have the lyrics on a stand all ready. Somebody is getting impatient, I think my dad, so I tell him that it'll be a couple minutes, so go do something and come back in ten or fifteen.

Then I can't find a pick anywhere. I usually have them in my pockets, but they aren't there. I go downstairs in the building, and search all my pants, everywhere.

I have to go through this room full of hundreds of budgies, and they are starving for attention. They land on me and I feel like I should pet them. There's a lady there, encouraging me to play with them, but I explain that I can't, I'm in a hurry. A budgie lands on my left arm, rubbing his head on me. I feel bad, but I just have to go.

Still looking for a pick, I go into this room where all our bunks are. There is a group of people there, planning to go out partying, and they invite me to come with them - but no, I'm playing a show upstairs if I can ever get it together.