I'm at church. It seems to be in the "parlor" at my parents' house (where in real life, church was held for a while when I was about 10 years old), and seems to be populated by Jaquiths (a churchie family, with whom we attended when I was young). The parlor features large sliding doors, so I open them just enough to pass through, and sit on the floor there.

Somehow a discussion arises between myself and some younger churchgoers, dressed all in suits and ties. I state that I am not a believer in Christianity, while these young fellows insist it is true. The conversation leads to a sort of dare, where I am to have my finger nailed to the wall later on, and by the power of Jesus it won't hurt.

Some time passes, and people are mingling about. I tell somebody about this deal with nailing my finger to the wall, and in conversation, obviously this doesn't sound like a good idea. So later I meet the young fellows and tell them I'm not going to do it. After all, I don't believe that their Jesus powers are going to save me from the pain, and I'm the one who has to have the nailed finger. It might do permanent damage.

Then I ask these boys their names. The main leader, who appears to be a young teenager, maybe 15 years old, says his name is Ben, Ben Jaquith.