It’s some sort of gathering, young people, teenagers, twenty-somethings, and no one there knows me. I’m not supposed to be there. I don’t even know where I am, or what I am doing, but I walked into the house, and everyone looks at me and they start trying to figure out who I am, and some of them leave.

No one says anything to me, I don’t talk to anyone, and as more people leave, I go outside, walk across a field, and find myself on a playing course of some sort, with lines and markers, but I have no idea what any of it means. Some of the young people are there, and now they’re fearful, and leave quicker.

I wonder if we dream sometimes, and it takes us to other places, where people see us, and think we’re ghosts.