Chasing a gelatinous black toad through the house where I grew up, until I trap it between two hats and proudly present it to Loren, who points out correctly that it is actually a venomous scorpion. He scolds me for not killing it immediately, which I then do. My father lives upstairs.

Late, at the wrong track, at the wrong station, with the wrong ticket, to the wrong city of Boston, but I persist in search of the right train.

Down in the goathouse.

At the sanatorium of dreams, no one has insurance. I'm told that the line marked "Nightmares Only" will be shorter. When my turn comes, I shout up to an unseen woman on the mezzanine. She tells me to keep on dreaming and come back next week.

Test tube poured on the rest room floor.