February 10/11, 2005

In a parking lot. There's a row of parked cars in front of me. It's summer, and very nice out. I'm thinking how it would be nice if Aaliyah called once in a while instead of her crazy friend. I have a mini-basketball, smaller than a tennis ball. I bounce it a couple of times, and do some crazy spinerama move, juke and jive, and do a layup over the cars. It goes into the virtual basket, naturally. Everybody's impressed. I laugh at how it would be amusing if I could actually play, and then I could hustle people. Meanwhile, I've lost the ball in the cars. I head to the side of the row, toward the street, and it's just rolling out there. The road goes up a hill ahead of me, houses on either side. I start walking up the right side. There's a driveway with a basketball hoop in it, but I feel weird using theirs. I look across the street and see that just about everybody has one. Farther up, on the other side, is a tiny hoop on the street, so I head over. It's just barely bigger than the ball I have, so I launch a shot. It goes off the backboard and the front of the rim. Pretty close, and I'm impressed since I didn't think I'd hit anything. I remember that I'm expecting a call, and I left my phone in the parking lot. I do some kind of Jedi mind trick to teleport the cordless to my hand.

Phone rings.