Thursday December 9th, 2004

I’m in a post-catastrophe age where lots of people have all gathered in a large mall-like building. I’m the de facto leader of the group and am trying to find help. I ask a friend to help me find someone with good leadership skills so I can ask them advice on how to bring the entire group together. There are more people constantly streaming in and I’m worried about us not being a cohesive group.

My friend recommends that I talk to a middle aged women with short blonde hair for advice. I see her in a living room talking to a group.

As I start walking around, I see my high school art teacher Ms. Christensen. I run up and give her a hug and tell her about my troubles. Then a younger woman (who looks more like Ms. Christensen than the woman I’m hugging) comes up. The older woman says, “Here’s junior.” I walk with the older Ms. Christensen and tell her I’m worried about the cohesiveness of the group.

Later, I wander back to the center of the mall and see that a room is on fire. I start yelling for people to come help. I yell, “Get the firefighters! Get all the men here!” I grab small bowls of water and throw them on some small patches of fire. I run frantically trying to find a hose.

I enter the burning room and trying to switch off all the lights to prevent the electrical system from burning. The room is now dark and I fumble my way through it.