You find yourself in a highly attended town meeting. Everyone is there, Opie, Andy, Aunt Bee, Gomer, Goober, and Don Knotts as 2002 Don Knotts, not Barney. Everyone is black and white. You are the center of the town meeting. But you don't realize it right away, like you just entered your body from a Quantum Leap. After some vicious debate, you are asked to leave by Andy and you start to walk home. As you exit, the world is now in color and wet from a recent downpour. You're idly minding your business crossing the street, jumping over the rainwater rushing in the gutter when you hear a loud honk to your right from a truck plowing the rainwater out of the street. Barely jumping out of the way of the tsunami from the plow, you continue along your way to a bend in the street, noticing many townsfolk lined up on the sidewalk with their aluminum folding chairs and blankets to ward off the evening chill. That's when you notice the little league games against a orange-pink sky from the setting sun. But something's different about it. It's like you're looking though a fishbowl lens at the field, the players on the peripheral stretching as they fade from view. Then there's a repeating beep off in the distance. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes the beep grows louder, you reach for the big button next to the bed to stop the beep and get another nine minutes of sleepful bliss.