Kyhaar

I am in a building, and I can hear my dad making a phone call on my brother's behalf, advertising in an almost sing-song manner that they should hire him. I walk into a room and hear the door behind it shaking. Then, it swings open and out bursts a two-year old girl in nothing but a shirt. For some reason, she reminds me of Trisha. Jack, one of my students at the learning centre I work at, is with me and is equally as shocked to see all these young children invading the room.

I am in my old house's garage. Instead of it being concrete, it is made of hardwood, and there is a 1-inch diameter, perfectly circular hole in the ground. Below that, I can see the basement of the garage. (Apparently, this garage has two stories). I drop a red ball down it. Once on the bottom story (somehow), my parents are throwing footballs at the wall, and my brother and I must stick with plasticized ones so we don't break anything.