In the first part, I was an outsider. The only clear memory now is of a rock embedded to the left of my left knee, under the skin but visible like only a thin layer of epidermis kept it in. I popped it like I would a zit to reveal a rough stone an inch across and half an inch deep. The wound was mericfully painless and bloodless.
In the second part, I was an insider. We were hosting a Thanksgiving (nee Friendsgiving) in our small, well-lighted house. A colleague from two gigs prior was attending, with his own haughty cooking equipment and reluctant gratitude of participation. The food was excellent I remember being warm.
Woke up around 6:15am to be at the dining hall by 7 which it turns out is 30 minutes early for breakfast. Read a book.