I'm apparently in Hawaii, in a small nondescript apartment with some unidentifiable people. I'm with two unknown men in the small kitchen, eating some pancakes that Vera made, and other people are in an adjacent room, out of view.

My considerations (as usual) are that we're supposed to leave soon, but I'm not exactly sure when, maybe tomorrow. People are making plans, and I just want to go to the beach for the afternoon, maybe go snorkeling. I think I'm finished with my breakfast, and get up to the sink to wash my plate. One of the guys also gets up from the table, indicating the now-empty bowl of pancake mix, and asks if he should make some more.

"Sure," I say, indicating a nearby box of Krusteaz dry pancake mix. "I think you just add mix and water, by the instructions on the box."