A wide, wintery field surrounded by trees. In the centre of the field, a dead tree, bent and crooked atop a brown hillock. There are four white laptops connected in a line through the hinges. They are hanging around my neck. I am walking through the field looking for someone. The driving snow makes it hard to see. I walk for what seems like hours.
Winter turns to autumn, and I intend to get in a car at the edge of the field under cover of the trees. Beside the car is a giant six-wheeled vehicle. It is nearly three storeys tall. A woman sits in the drivers seat. My right-hand drive vehicle is too close to the tall tank-like truck. I ask the woman to move; she retorts with explosive negativity. She reverses and slams into my car, destroying it. I flee down a dirt road. She pursues me, and I bolt into the tall trees, then wake up.
