Night. Dad and I are sitting at the top of a stone bluff in Yosemite. We're looking down on a Ku Klux Klan meeting in a small valley with a few men maneuvering around in the dark, perhaps trying to ignite a cross. I realize that Dad and I are also dressed in Klan robes but without the hoods. I have an overripe persimmon in my hand and I throw it down at one of the Klansmen below. Dad calmly scolds me, saying something like, "come on Matthew, you don't have to pick on those poor, ignorant bastards. They have their own problems to deal with."

Then I'm alone and I find myself scaling the sheer cliff that was behind us. I'm incredibly high up now and the handholds are nearly impossible to get. At an impasse actually - my arms and legs spread out wide to grip the small ledges. All of a sudden I am surrounded by a bright, shimmering light and a sense of paralyzed ecstasy. The stone explodes, shattering into dust and I feel two strong arms embrace and carry me up to the summit. I'm laid down safely on the ground, my robes covered in stone dust. Again the image of of a strong male torso, like an amputated Hellenic sculpture in marble.

First thing that dawns on me then is that I'm in Big Sur and I have to play a show for Britt. My amp is there (the Super Reverb) but where's everything else? Wandering around I come upon Paz. She's 20 years younger and she starts to flirt with me.