When I came to my senses, I was sitting in a drab cafe. Dark wooden chairs, wrought iron tables. My head was hazy. Through the mist I saw a half-empty pint of beer and remembered who drank the first half: me, about twenty minutes ago. I must have dozed off. The cafe was still fuzzy, like the dream. Something about islands and broken necks. Ronnie came back from the bathroom and apologized for the wait. I must have fallen asleep waiting for him to take one of his legendary BMs. We left enough cash for bill and tip when we put on our coats and walked into the night.