Come in from the cold

Traveling over ice flows with a group of guys. An ocean liner screams across our path in the distance slicing through the ice. As it crosses directly in front of us, I see that it is a semi-truck, not a ship. When we reach it’s path, the ice disappears. I am wearing boots or one of the other guys is. But we start swimming. Before I even see any shore, we are dripping wet, sitting near the top of a stone staircase and wearing floral print swimming trucks. A woman opens a large glass door at the top of the stairs. We have interrupted the yoga class she is teaching. She asks, “You went out swimming?” I reply, “No, we just swam in.” She is shocked by the realization that we just arrived on shore.

I am in a store filled with old radios, mainly big cabinet sized ones. I find one marked for $60 that is really beat up.