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While talking to Karen on my cellphone in my room, I glanced out my window to see that the entire neighborhood was flooded several meters deep. I was severely agitated at the sight of my car floating around, damaged, among other cars. Still on the phone, I started yelling from the shock of the sight. I went downstairs to the computer, and it was surrounded by a handful of strangers. It looked as though my computer was the last one working in the neighborhood. I fought to sit down to use it. I was trying to explain to Karen via AIM what was going on, and then the computer crashed, effectively tripling my frustration.

I was sitting in the audience of a fancy and cavernous concert hall, near the front. On stage was Conan Obrien with a thin mustache, performing an act that was a mimicry of Stephen Colbert's recent satirical Congressional dinner speech. There was also a vaudeville lady, whose comedy focused on puns largely involving ice cream and confusion between bowls and bowler hats. I looked down and saw in my hands some money. It was an 8.25 dollar bill, and the back of it was a moving display of grainy old footage of a person tap dancing. I got up to walk around. Exiting the auditorium, I appeared to be in a massive casino, or a cruise ship, or an orbiting space tourism station, or some combination of any of those. There were massive windows, multiple stories tall, revealing endless black sky.