I feel my bare feet on the pavement as I run from them.  The cold, and wetness I feel beneath my toes, the cold sharpness of the night, contrast with my throbbing head and arms.  I can hear their distant shouts as they chase, they scream “get back here,” “We want your liver for research!”  I run naked away as they chase, holding their syringes at the ready waiting to sedate me.  They won’t catch me.  I run backwards, flapping ostentatiously into the wind as I look at them.  I shout “Come and get me!” and they continue to give steady chase.  The suburban neighborhood I’m running naked through can obviously hear the shouts coming from the grown men running after my naked self.  It was a splendid feeling knowing that they were not going to be able to catch me. There was a vast river that would separate me from the evil that was chasing me. The only object I could use a raft was a giant plastic board which seemed very fragile. I decided to take my chance and cross the river using it. I finally made it across but the fungus on my body was unreal. I couldn’t take the time to stop and clean up because I am on their clock, and not my own.  On the other side of the river was a forest, which I raced through, eager to escape from my pursuers.  I eventually reached a wooden cottage, with smoke billowing out of its chimney.  I walked inside, and spotted a washcloth on the table, right next to a scrumptious apple pie.  I took the washcloth and cleaned the fungus off of my body.  I was searching through the drawers, eager to find some clothes to put on, when I heard a voice behind me. The voice is from an old woman who invited me to into her home after I already broke in. She is explaining to me the quintessence of blueberries in a pie was to add sweetness and a contrast of textures and flavor.  The fantastic feelings, the satisfaction of eating, the warmth of clothes, the relatively safety of the moment.