First of all, what is my brother doing in a Swedish(?) pop group from the seventies? (Top center)

This morning, Karen woke me up from a really weird — and long-lasting — dream. Karen, Sev, Lisa, Brian, Sid and I suddenly found ourselves in a parking lot in downtown Tampa; we realized (from the lack of some recent buildings, and the presence of others which had been torn down) that we had gone back in time, but we weren't sure how far.

However, we realized that it was far enough back that none of us had keys to the places we were currently living, and we had very little money on us. Nevertheless, we decided to walk to the apartment complex where both Sid and I had once lived (though in the real world, she never actually lived there) in hopes that one of us was currently residing there, and could tell the front office that we had forgotten our keys).

Along the way, we had many adventures, including a demented Santa's Workshop wherein taking anything off the walls or using the restroom would turn off all the lights in the building and cause the overhead sprinklers to activate for thirty seconds; a path in the woods with glowing alien symbols that turned out to be a gimmick for "Trees 'Я' Us"; and an outdoor SCA bonfire revel, which, from looking at the people who were there, at least gave us a clue of how far back in time we'd gone, but made us paranoid about meeting our earlier selves.

That was when Karen woke me up. I blame the Italian sausages I ate last night.