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I was sitting near the back of a massive auditorium, listening to a lecture by a woman who appeared to be a strict feminist. It felt like a school fieldtrip. From where we sat, there was a movie poster visible out the back door in the lobby, on which there was a guy whose hair was medium length, light blonde, and tangled, very much like a tumbleweed. Someone pointed to that poster and declared that a girl near us looked just like the guy on it, because she had the same hair. Fearing she would be offended, I quickly stepped in and told her that she needs not to worry because her facial features are feminine and pretty. While I was telling her that, I walked with her into the lobby toward the poster, with my arm at the small of her back. Seemingly pleased, she pushed me against the wall and started kissing me. She even kissed my nose at one point. After a minute or so, she lost interest even faster than she gained it, and we both walked back into the auditorium and sat down. The feminist lecturer was getting frustrated that no one was listening to her. She was walking among the audience, carrying the microphone. The blonde girl and I looked at each other and said "shh" with an index finger on our lips, moving our heads closer to each other. We took our index fingers away and kissed one last time.

I was driving home from somewhere in the dead of night in the middle of winter. I took a wrong turn and realized that I was in the streets of my childhood neighborhood in Indiana. Fortunately I still had it all memorized after over 12 years. Just then, something was wrong with my car, and I heard a repeating loud clicking sound. I stopped and got out to examine it, and, without my realization, my car was now a gas-powered lawnmower. I flipped it over, not quite knowing what I was looking for, and I suddenly acquired a bit of omniscience that this lawnmower had recently run over and mangled an old lady. Indeed I saw some bloody mess all inside the lawnmower, and I immediately turned away in horror. I needed to get somewhere, but this was not the time to revisit my childhood home. I tried to clean off some of the blood by rubbing the entire bottom of the lawnmower on a bank of snow next to the road. Some blood was getting all over the snow. There was nothing more I could do.