I'm milling around the hallway of a school with some other students. We're all waiting for the bus. I get impatient and wander down the hall to another part of the school. I see a hall monitor and ask her why no busses are coming. She's not sure but is very nice to me. I hear over my walkie talkie that a bus as come and picked up my friends from the other end of the school and is coming around to my side. I run outside along with some other people to wait. Instead of a bus, a large transport helicopter (like a Chinook) flies by. It attempts to land but cannot and makes a loop to come around and try again. On its second attempt, it crashes into the school. Instead of completely shock, I'm only a bit dissappointed.

I run to the wreckage to help. I peer into the body of the helicopter and see Francesca (David Moore's wife) inside. I ask her if she's okay and she tells me she can't feel her knee. I help pull her out and walk her into the school. In an empty hallway, I sit her down and lift up one pantleg (being careful not to offend her) to check her knee. It's skinned badly but there's no breakage. I pat her pregnant belly gently and ask, "How's everything here?" She says she's fine and I tell her to bandage the knee herself while I run back to help others.

I run into another hallway where some others have gone. The emergency is over and a school staffer is cleaning up. She points to some bags and says a man left them here. The man comes in to claim his bag.

The two of us wander around the empty halls of the school and into the basement. We look out one window and see a young Asian woman wandering around out in the snow in her underwear. I point this out to my companion.

I see a door to a basement and tell him that there is a complex of mazes under the school and wonder if there might be a prostitution ring running there. Through a basement window I see lots of big rats scurrying about.

We enter the large room with the rats and see several men standing about. The men, including one who looks like Alfred Molina, refer to themselves as (movie) villains. I get a bit nervous and try to look for a way out. My companion says he's going to stay because he's a character actor but leading men like me should go. I begin to leave but do not.

Now I'm engaged in a heated discussion with actors of color about the role of race in Hollywood. The actors are very displeased with Hollywood. I'm optimistic and say to one actor (a cross between Hector Elizondo & Jimmy Smits), "You play the villains the occasional a leading part in a indie and one day you wake up as Morgan Freeman. Then it's all about the big supporting roles in Hollywood films and the occasional leading role." The actor (who's now a middle aged black man) is very skeptical and begins ignoring me.

The room is suddenly full of well-dressed young black people mingling like a cocktail party. I begin to squeeze my way out.