Carolina and I were in the home of one of my relatives, probably my sister. A Christmas spirit was in the air -- gifts were being exchanged. My sister was standing in the front of the room opening gifts. I didn't think Carolina and I had brought her anything, but finally she pulled out an old rug from a box. I immediately recognized the rug as one Carolina and I had found in a garbage can; it was a little over a meter square and in good condition, although a bit dirty. However, it clearly wasn't an appropriate present to give to someone, and I was dismayed that Carolina apparently had brought it in as a present. My sister held the rug in the air with two fingers and finally sit it aside, clearly unimpressed.

As the opening of presents continued, I noticed that Carolina would make a distasteful grimace as she saw each present. She didn't even look like Carolina anymore; she looked more like an old man (perhaps 70 years old). I mimicked her grimace to her, trying to show her how she was contorting her face at the sight of each present; but she seemed unconcerned by what I thought.

Something else in the room was bothering me: in bold numbers about 30 centimeters high, on a digital screen at the front of the room, was posted the balance of one of my stock accounts. I was embarrassed because the account was so low. The numbers would fluctuate slightly, but they finally stopped on $173. I hoped everyone didn't think this was the only account I had and that this was all my money. Carolina and I had three other brokerage accounts with considerably more money in them.

As the party proceeded, my father and I worked our way outside into the back and sat down on some train tacks behind the back yard. I had a blanket with me which I laid on the tracks and sat on. My father (about 60 years old) sat down on the tracks a couple meters from me. As we talked, I noticed a train approaching in the distance, coming around a bend in the tracks. The train seemed to be moving slow and I wasn't alarmed, although we clearly would need to move. I pointed the train out to my father and I began thinking I should start gathering my blanket together. When I looked back at the train again, it had already covered almost half the distance -- it must be moving much faster than I had first thought. I needed to move immediately I looked again and the train was closer yet. If I didn't hurry, I might be hit. I already was thinking I might just need to jump off into the brush on the other side of the tacks, instead of going to the side toward the house (another set of tracks lay between me and the house). I began pulling at the blanket. It seemed stuck as if it had been wet and frozen to the tracks. I couldn't get it loose. I might have to leave it. The train was so close now, I was simply going to have to jump one way or the other. If I didn't act fast, I was going to be hit.

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