You are convalescing in a small bungalow or summer cottage behind a much larger house and attached to it by an open decked walkway. You’re feeling very under the weather, perhaps from a bad cold or recently healed wound.

You have a visitor: a very attractive someone named Riley that you knew in school years ago. They seem unusually interested in staying and talking (a major change from when you knew them before) and goes on and on about personal topics like political beliefs, the cochlear implants they need to hear, and other facts that you already know (both in waking life and in the dream). You listen politely.

Eventually Riley sits on the bed and becomes rather aggressively forward, beginning with personal conversation before moving to heavy petting. You reciprocate after some hesitation; things don’t go any further. The whole time, though, you are preoccupied with what Jordan (who is away on business) would think if they knew; you try telling yourself that it’s just a harmless dalliance with no sex and no consequences, but the guilt is still there.

You’re interrupted by the sheriff, who is the last person you expected to see, but he has even worse news: he’s just let Jordan into the house after they arrived home early and found it locked. The look of shock and betrayal on Jordan’s face is shattering. Riley runs off, redfaced, and you pursue Jordan to the front door, protesting that the situation isn’t what it seemed. They scream that they’re sorry they ever thought you were different than the others, that you were worthwhile, and leaves with a slam.

You sit down heavily and realize, with horror, that neither Jordan nor Riley will ever want to have anything to do with you again. At that moment, the skies open up with a torrent of rain and thunder.