Later, I am riding in a car with two musicians, one of whom is the one who taught me the drum rhythm. We are driving down Street Rd. in Warminster (the town I grew up in) when they offer me a tab of LSD. I don't take it right away, but I plan to later. Or maybe I'll take half of it; I'm a bit apprehensive. The plan is for all of us to take acid and then improvise music.

A group of people have gathered for this musical session, including Erica, my friend/college girlfriend. I no longer have the drums but instead I set up a laptop. I decide that before we get started I am going to make a store run and pick up some "supplies," water, snacks, etc. People begin to give me requests for things to pick up, some of which are complicated.

I'm still preparing to go to the store when I notice that all of the others have gathered around a table and are making strange nonsense vocal sounds. It soon becomes clear that they have taken their drugs and that the improvisation has begun. I feel resentful towards the group; I am hurt that they didn't wait until I completed my errand at the store before getting started. Do they see me as an important member of the group or just someone who can run errands for them?

I decide to skip going to the store so that I can join in the session. At this point the improvisations have been entirely vocal, no one is using an instrument yet. I decide to contribute language to the mix: I select a book off of a bookshelf and prepare to use it as a random text-generator.

I am about to join the group when I wake up.