I'm in school, there's a surprise math test, it's on some type of calculus I've never seen before which has numbers in two columns that some operation has to be performed on. I don't know what the operation is, though, because I've been skipping class for a long time. I was going to skip again today but I figured my attendance might get low enough that I'd automatically fail if I didn't start going again at some point. When I realize there's no way for me to divine the necessary operation by simply staring at the numbers, I walk out of class, pull my right foot over my right shoulder from the back, and start floating around. A freckle-faced soccer player named Ryan laughs and asks what I'm doing, and I demonstrate how, if I hop with my left leg while my right is hanging over my shoulder, I can jump really high and float back to the ground gradually. If I jump at an angle, it's kind of like flying.
I fly to a weird, scrappy house in the woods where most of the kids I know who go/went t MICA are preparing for an art show that I am also a part of. The place looks like a YMCA haunted house two weeks before Halloween-- like, it's not ready at all, but nobody seems worried. In the room I am supposed to be doing something in, there's a giant hot dog painted on one wall that stretches from the floor to the ceiling. Next to it, there's a big empty space. At the bottom of the empty space someone has started to draw the outline of a crawling baby in black spray paint, but they've made it much too short. I explain to some girls that the baby should maybe be bigger because all the empty space makes it look kind of crappy. They agree. I ask if we have to paint over the bad baby, and they say yes. Someone starts painting over it with silver paint. The wall's previous coat isn't silver, though. I decide to go home. My right leg is still hanging over my right shoulder this whole time.
I hop out of the house, pull my leg off my shoulder, and start running. I run to the road and run in the road, going faster than I can really manage. I fall down onto my butt and slide down the road at a quick pace. The road gets hilly and I wonder if I'm somewhere near Dickeyville. It's going to take a long time to get home, I think. I start to wonder if it's a bad idea to slide in the road-- will cars not see me? Maybe I should stand and try to run on the side of the road. I get upright, still zooming faster than I can manage, legs flying all over the place. I see a car in my lane facing the wrong way, but luckily it's parked. There's actually 2 or 3 cars parked behind it-- it seems like someone's extended family has either just arrived or is just leaving from some kind of holiday get-together. I run past their cars but I have to touch the hoods to get around them-- I wonder if they care but I'm going to fast to see. I start listening to AM talk radio somehow as I continue flailing/falling/flying down the road.
The radio show I can hear has a guy with a stereotypical Jewish old man voice for a host. He is talking to a caller with a similar voice who is describing a thing called "Psychotron"-- apparently a term used by local Jewish conspiracy buffs to describe a secret revival of the KKK that is currently underway. The caller talks about a man named Michael Caine who is either a cop or friends with cops and whose tactless barroom boasting has revealed some of Psychotron's secrets.