I am driving, there is a woman in the seat beside me, it might be a coworker. We come to a tree fallen across the road, it seems normal that it’s there. I park the car and we get out to proceed on foot. I pull a large deli sandwich that is on a tiny ambulance stretcher out of the back of the vehicle and start pushing it toward the tree. As I approach I notice that a huge spider has made a very dense web in the fallen tree, and the web is in the way when we try to pass under the tree.
I find a stick to start dismantling the web, the spider is hanging from a single strand of web to my left watching. I create a big enough opening for us to pass though, pushing the sandwich. As I pass directly under the tree, where there are still strands of web hanging down, the stretcher jars over a root or something, and the sandwich falls off onto the ground. I look down and note there are now 3 sandwiches, the original one, and 2 medium sized meatball and cheese sandwiches. One of them looks like if has been trampled, but the other one looks ok. I heft the original sandwich back onto the stretcher and pick off the twigs, leaves and spider web, and gather up the most intact meatball sandwich as well. We proceed down the road.
I enter a large auditorium. There are bleachers from wall to wall, with only a narrow walkway between the lower bleachers and the wall. The place is packed, it’s standing room only. I walk along the walkway by the bottom bleachers and am surprised to find a large old TV that is projecting grey static. I carry on to the far wall, then turn around for the return trip. As I pass by the crowd for the second time, I meet a troupe of improve performers running out from the far side of the auditorium with microphones and a few props.
I pass by them with as little disruption as possible and move up into the bleachers until I find a place I can stand. One of the performers runs up the bleachers with a microphone and begins talking to a person standing behind me. He asks a question, then there is an unintelligible mumble in response. I turn around to see who he’s talking to, and find myself staring at the navel of a behemoth of a person. From the angle I’m at, as I look up I can’t really tell much about the person, I’m looking up at their chin. I decide to look down for clues instead, and see huge puffy feet plugged into sandals that are several sizes too small. The feet are in bad shape, save for cherry red polish on the few nails that weren’t too damaged or twisted to paint.
The next thing I know I’m in a darkened hallway, pushing the stretcher of sandwiches toward a set of double doors. I wake up.