I was on a train in Indiana that had left a campground I was staying at (I remembered being at a camp but didn’t remember it). The train started to pass snow-covered fields, although it was only August. I thought, “Something is terribly wrong.”

Next I was in the bright atrium of an office building or a large department store. Slowly I became aware that someone was firing or about to fire a bazooka or something like it. I ran away and encountered a second person about to fire. I got away from that one too.

I found myself in a narrow street or an alley that should have been crowded with people but was quiet and lonely. I walked faster and faster, trying to elude whatever was lurking for me between me and the end.

I heard something, then saw my dad in his van, beckoning me to hurry. “How could Dad be here?” I wondered, but still I hurried to him . . . and safety.