I walk down the street with Alanis Morissette. She seems very pleasant. I want to ask her why she did that horrible movie for Kevin Smith, the one where she played God, but our conversation is broken apart by sirens. It's dark, hot and quiet. Seems the power is still out, and I can barely sleep. I can hear every siren in the tri-state area. People are setting their houses on fire with candles, the erie silence broken by fire trucks.

I am in my sisters old bedroom in the house we grew up in. I am fixing the wiring in her room so she can get power to her radio. When I am done, I clean her room. Another siren, and I am washed in a strange melancholy. Again, the power is still out. The night goes on like this for eternity as hot still air settles on my chest.

I am driving in a black van with Jerry Sienfeld, he is giving me a heart to heart about the true virtues of old school comedy, "Not this new curse and jerk crap." he says. He morphs into an old friend from high school who resembles him in a way I never noticed until this dream. This time the click of power coming on pulls me from the dream. The fan begins to blow cool air over my body.