I was in the attic room I lived in when I was a preteen, in one of many apartments I lived in as a child. There were paper streamers all over the place and it was strangely illuminated for a room with two windows that are stuffed with AC units. The light came from above, as if the roof had been ripped off and thick gauze laid down to disspate the sunlight.

There was a guy in the room with me, but not someone I would recognize in real life. He had wild blonde, curly hair that was more animated than he was. He must have been a boyfriend of mine because I sat on his lap to where I could face him. He began convulsing, saying something about being too aroused, that he was going to, um, you know, right in his pants. So he grabs my navy blue sweatshirt and uses the arm of it to, uh, try to be tidy about it. It was like some thing from an anime movie, and it was pretty gross, because, you know everything in anime movies is exaggerated excessively and I don't mind in when it's in the movie, but not in my dreams. I don't dream in anime, and to be blunt, that thing scared me.

After this we walk downstairs and get into this car. I'm driving, but I can't figure out how to use the steering wheel, because it's in two halves, one on either side of me. To get the steering wheel together, I had to clip one half over me and the other over me, like a Playtex Cross Your Heart bra. The steering wheel was strapped to seatbelts and the halves of the wheel had these outlets that were plugged into posts in the dashboard. The boy, still "wearing" the sweatshirt sleeve, had to help me with it so I could drive.

I have no idea where we were headed, but there was a lot of slow traffic congestion and people milling about, like crowds dispersing after a car wreck or a parade, not knowing where to go right away. And we drove through wet streets, not saying a word to one another.